


A Bad Taste In Your Mouth (One Blood, One Life)

by kathierif_fic



Category: CSI: NY
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-11-25
Updated: 2010-11-25
Packaged: 2017-10-13 09:14:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 21,804
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/135638
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kathierif_fic/pseuds/kathierif_fic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simple street cop Danny Messer is forced to give up what he loves when he is matched as a blood Donor to the vampire Mac Taylor and is supposed to center his life around the vampire's needs now. He struggles with what is happening to him, even despite the support from Mac's other Donor, Don Flack, when suddenly someone from his past comes back and kidnaps both him and Flack. It's up to Danny and Don now to survive this abduction and find their way back to where they belong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A lot of thanks goes to ginny305, of course, who read this and encouraged me pretty much every step of the way.
> 
> This was written for the csi_bigbang on livejournal.

The moon was just a thin sickle in the sky, hidden behind dark clouds and almost invisible from the streets of New York City. Less vibrant than the many lights of the city, the man rushing through traffic without looking left or right didn’t pay any attention to it, or anything else beyond his intent to get away from the man hot on his heels.

Pushing a pedestrian out of his way, he made a sharp turn around a newsstand, and, trying to shake off his follower, ducked into an alley that was dark and grimy.

He didn’t slow down. He wasn’t bothered by the sudden change of illumination, and his speed remained almost inhumanly fast. The trash scattered on the ground didn’t manage to slow him down in the slightest. Only when he reached the end of the alley and realized that there was nowhere else for him to go, he came to an almost abrupt stop and cursed under his breath.

He started to turn, but he didn’t get far. A heavy mass of muscles crashed into him, pulling him off his feet and sending him tumbling to the ground. Harsh breathing filled the air as he was roughly pulled around, to his front.

The man hissed in anger and annoyance and used his momentum to push the weight off his back, sending him flying into the rough sandstone of the building they were next to. He nimbly jumped to his feet and crouched low, ready to attack.

For a brief moment, only harsh breathing filled the alley, but it didn’t last.

The second man slowly climbed back to his feet and shook his head, to get rid of the dizziness that had resulted from getting slammed into a wall, before he dropped into a defensive stance opposite the man he’d chased here, strategically placing his body between the exit of the alley and this man.

“Put your hands over your head,” he said, his voice sharp and loud. “NYPD!”

A deep, animalistic growl escaped the man’s throat, and he bared sharp, pointy fangs just as the smell of warm, fresh blood filled his nostrils.

The cop, in his pursuit of him, had injured himself.

The smell drove him almost insane, sudden need and hunger overwhelming his every thought and clouding over his mind with a thick haze of red. Instead of thinking, he just allowed the oldest instincts in his body to take over.

The oldest instincts in his body, which made him rush toward the source of the blood, trying to get to it.

Trying to drink it.

The cop easily sidestepped his furious approach and managed to overwhelm him without much trouble, and before long, the man found himself with his wrists cuffed tightly behind his back.

“Derek Andersen, you’re under arrest,” the cop panted into his ear. “You have the right to remain silent…”

A loud howl interrupted him, and the cop grabbed Andersen’s arm and bodily dragged him from the alley. He blinked and grunted in displeasure when he dragged the man he’d arrested out of the dark alley and back onto the brightly lit street, where a group of uniformed officers were already waiting for them.

“You okay, Messer?” one of them, a slender woman with brown hair, called out. She was frowning slightly, but her weapon didn’t waver away from them.

“Yeah, yeah,” the cop replied and gave Derek Andersen a rough push that sent him tumbling toward the other cops. “Bloodthirsty vamp tried to run.”

The female cop lowered her weapon. “Danny, you’re bleeding,” she said, concern visible in her body language. “You need to go to the hospital.”

“I’m fine, Lindsay.” Danny Messer shook his head and glanced at his arm. The injury wasn’t bad and would, most likely, heal within a few days. He didn’t need to see a doctor because of it, that much was obvious to him.

“Did he hurt you?” Lindsay asked, and Danny shook his head.

“You know vamps, they get stupid when they smell blood, especially guys like Andersen here,” he said nonchalantly. “He doesn’t look like he had a lot of blood lately.”

Lindsay still didn’t look as if she was convinced he was okay, and Danny sighed and tugged on the sleeve of his shirt.

“That damn vamp,” he said, to distract Lindsay’s attention from the minor injury. “He tried to steal that little lady’s wallet, did you see that?”

“No,” Lindsay murmured and slipped her hand under Danny’s elbow. “I didn’t, but the little lady told me.”

“Good,” Danny replied fiercely. “Bloodsucker, shouldn’t get away with it, not this time.”

He didn’t wait for a reply as he walked back toward the squad car Lindsay had parked a few feet away, Lindsay giving him a short, confused look before hurrying after him.

None of them was paying attention to the blood that had dripped off of Danny’s arm and onto Derek Andersen’s coat, where it continued to confuse the vampire’s senses until his clothes were collected as evidence and sent to get processed.

They all had other things to think about.


	2. Chapter 2

The halls of the building were quiet, the kind of grave and still quietness that usually belonged into churches and funeral homes, Don Flack thought uncomfortably as he walked quietly toward the front desk, to let the receptionist know that he was leaving. It didn’t belong into a house that was filled with kids of all ages. There should be laughter and teasing and voices and other signs of activity, not this silence that made every of his step echo loudly through the corridor and made him try to tread quietly.

He shook his head and forced a smile on his face before pushing open the glass door that led to the foyer of the building. He had only needed to catch a brief glimpse at the broad back and the short cropped dark hair to recognize the vampire that was standing quietly in front of the desk, trying to make small talk with the receptionist, Anna, and looking as if he was feeling very awkward doing so.

“Mac,” he greeted quietly. The vampire, he knew, had already recognized the sound of his steps, and most likely had smelled that it was him entering the room. Mac didn’t need to turn around to know who entered or exited a room. “What are you doing here?”

Mac turned around and smiled faintly. “I was in the area,” he said and handed Don a paper cup that was steaming faintly and smelled deliciously like coffee. “And I thought I’d pick you up.”

Don raised his eyebrows, skepticism written on every inch of his face, but he decided not to call out Mac on the obvious lie while in public. “I’m done for today,” he announced and directed his smile to Anna while he waited for her to sign him out.

Mac waited patiently while Don scribbled his signature on a sheet of paper and wished Anna a good and peaceful night. He held the door open for the younger man and quietly followed him into the cool night.

Don inhaled deeply and closed his eyes for a moment.

“Bad day?” Mac asked and reached out, to brush his fingertips along the cuff of Don’s shirt where it was peeking out from the sleeve of his coat.

Don shrugged. “Three new kids,” he simply said. He didn’t need to add anything else, Mac knew what he was talking about, but still, he couldn’t stop himself. “Single mother, killed by a vampire in rage. He ripped her apart and killed her in front of her kids, Mac.”

“I’m sorry,” Mac murmured softly. He knew that it was more than inadequate, but he didn’t know what else he could offer to Don, who had spent the entire day sitting with three traumatized kids. “I wish…”

Don shook his head before he could add another word. “I know,” he said exhaustedly. “I think the kids will be fine.” He shook his head. “As much as they can be, at least,” he amended after a few moments of silence.

“I think so too,” Mac agreed. “They have you to talk to.”

“Don’t know how much of a difference that makes,” Don admitted. “But yeah. They do.”

Mac smiled softly. “Did you get the chance to get something to eat?” he wanted to know as he turned toward the bustling city, certain that Don would follow him.

“Yeah,” Don answered, falling into step with him. “What is it you want to talk about?”

Mac gave him an amused glance. “Maybe we should’ve let you become a cop,” he said, his voice dry, “you would’ve been right at home there.”

Don shrugged. “You don’t pick me up from work, and you’re never just in the area,” he said. “It only makes sense that you want to talk about something. Can’t be too much of an emergency, at least not in your eyes, or you would’ve called me home.”

Mac’s smile widened. “You know me too well,” he decided. “Yeah, I wanted to ask you to spend some time with Sheldon tonight.”

“The new blood substitute didn’t work out?” Don guessed, and Mac nodded.

“No, it didn’t. Sheldon…you know him. He is a little bit too focused on this project. He’s neglecting his basic needs.”

“Not like anyone else we know,” Don muttered. He knew that Mac had understood him perfectly well, but it hadn’t stopped him from saying the words, just like it didn’t stop his words from being true. The vampire’s pale skin was not the only sign that he hadn’t had any blood, fresh or otherwise, in quite some time. “When’s the last time you ate, Mac?”

Mac shrugged stiffly. “A few days ago. You know I keep a few bags of blood at the office,” he said.

“Uh-huh,” Don replied sarcastically. “Well, I can tell you that the last time you really had some fresh blood was about three weeks ago.”

“Eighteen days,” Mac automatically corrected with a frown. “Not three weeks.”

“Whatever,” Don replied. “You need to eat, too.”

“Sheldon needs it more than I do,” Mac deflected, just like he’d done it the eighteen days, every time Don, or Sheldon, had brought up his irregular eating habits.

“Your ears are starting to get pointy,” Don said quietly and stopped, forcing Mac to do the same. Don had his arms crossed over his chest, and he was sporting a deep, unhappy frown. “Dammit, Mac, don’t do this to yourself. I’m perfectly capable of dealing with both of you, you know.”

Mac sighed. “We had this discussion,” he pointed out calmly. “We don’t need to have it again.”

Don shook his head, but he decided to let the subject drop. There was no doubt in Mac’s mind that Don would bring it up as soon as he saw an opportunity, and he knew that Don wouldn’t hesitate getting Sheldon involved, as well.

“Are you going to the lab?” Don wanted to know after a long moment of silence. “Or coming home with me?”

“I have a case,” Mac replied, happy about the change of topic. “I will be home around dawn, I think. But Sheldon is there…”

“You sure?” Don asked, but Mac only nodded and reached out again, to brush his fingers over the back of Don’s hand.

“Yeah, I am,” he murmured. “I want you two to have a good time tonight.”

“We’ll try,” Don promised. “All right, I’ll see you later.”

“Be careful,” Mac requested, and Don lifted his hand in a mixture of a salute and a greeting before walking down the street, toward the subway that would take him home. Mac remained frozen to the spot, looking after him even long after Don was gone from his sight.

Sooner or later, he knew, he would have to give in and either drink one of the bags of blood stashed safely away in his office, or he would have to go to Don. He knew that Don wouldn’t reject him and would welcome him with no reservations, and, like many vampires, Mac didn’t like the conserved blood very much. It was nourishment, but it didn’t taste right, and it never had the right temperature, no matter how long he microwaved it.

It just wasn’t the real thing – fresh blood, straight from the vein, was the best thing a vampire could imagine. It was the best kind of nourishment.

The problem, Mac thought while finally turning around and starting to make his way to the lab, was the lack of Blood Donors that were suitable. Not every human’s blood tasted the same, and every vampire had their own taste and not every Donor was compatible with every vampire. To find the right Donor for a vampire was a long and complicated process, and Mac knew that he was extremely fortunate to have Don.

The only drawback was that he had to share his Donor with the vampire he had created several years ago, and while he never regretted turning Sheldon, he knew perfectly well that the vampire that was created from his blood had the same needs in blood that he had. Sharing a Donor was not only logical, but also expected, and Sheldon was so much younger than Mac that he needed to feed much more regularly.

His thoughts circled back to their Donor, and he shook his head slightly. Don couldn’t handle feeding both of them at the same time, he was certain of that, and Mac wouldn’t do anything that would risk Don’s life or well-being.

This, he decided, was not what he wanted to think about while on his way to work. His concentration needed to be back on the cases he was working on, not on his Child and his Donor. He needed to focus.

~*+*~

Danny squinted at the full moon hanging low in the sky and absent-mindedly lifted his hand to rub his left shoulder. The scars hidden by several layers of clothes itched and threatened to distract him from his current task, and Danny took too much pride in his work to let that happen.

He was a good cop, and he knew it. He loved being a cop. Usually, he worked days, but right now, it was close to midnight and he still was on the streets, walking along streets and trying to blend in, to catch a few glimpses of rumors every now and then; rumors that might help him track down another purse-snagging thief.

He was vaguely aware that he should turn around and head back to the precinct, to get changed and go home, and get out of this part of town, which wasn’t the safest even by day. In the middle of the night, it was impossible to say what kind of scum and criminal low-life would lurk behind the next corner, and Danny didn’t have a death wish.

His hand slipped down from his shoulder and brushed against the badge clipped to his belt. Not only did it identify him as a cop, it also protected him from the vampires that occasionally got desperate or bored enough to try and pick up a human for a little snack. Drinking from a cop was a federal offense, and so far, Danny had been lucky and hadn’t been approached by anyone.

He was glad about that. He didn’t know how he would react to a vampire propositioning a little fun to him, but he knew himself well enough to suspect he wouldn’t be very excited about such an offer.

He didn’t trust vampires.

Most of them seemed to be harmless enough, content with their lives and the blood rations and blood donors they had, but every now and then, Danny overheard his co-workers whispering in the break room about a vampire who had gone crazy, attacking humans and falling into a dangerous and unstoppable blood rage. The papers and the news were often filled with reports about blood rage – the less regularly a vampire drank fresh blood, the more likely it was that they would succumb to the madness – but they were just as often filled with the kind of crimes Danny dealt with: robberies, homicides, and drug deals, most of which were not committed by vampires, but by regular people.

He shifted his shoulders uncomfortably and glanced up, at the street lights that were bright enough to illuminate the entire street. The focus of life had shifted to the night as soon as vampires had grown more common, with most humans adapting to the vampires’ inability to go out by day and starting to work at night, as well. Danny actually preferred the day shift, but when Lindsay had asked him to work nights with him, he hadn’t found it in him to refuse her.

Lindsay was the closest friend he had. Years of working together had forged a band between them that, Danny suspected, was a lot like a marriage. They bickered like little children and spent most of the time when they weren’t focused on a case pouting at each other, but Danny wouldn’t trade Lindsay for anything and he would do almost anything for her.

Even work the nightshift in a full moon night, when the vamps went crazy and a lot of humans did, too.

He sighed quietly and decided to turn around, get back to the precinct and home, before he got caught here by a drug dealer with an attitude or anything like that, when bright-flashing red and blue lights caught his attention.

Curiosity piqued, he quickened his pace, walking toward the commotion. Maybe someone needed his help, he rationalized while already reaching for his gun. He didn’t know yet what had happened – or what would happen – but he couldn’t turn away from it, anyways. Drawn to the scene like a moth to a flame, he quickly took in his surroundings as he ducked around the corner of a building.

Suddenly and quite unexpectedly, he found himself held at gunpoint.

“Whoa,” he said and lifted his hands slightly. “I’m a cop, so relax, okay?”

The uniformed man on the other side of the barrel didn’t twitch a muscle. He was wearing the black uniform of the Nightwatch, a special unit that solely dealt with crimes involving vampires.

“Didn’t you hear me? I’m on your side!” Danny tried again. It dawned on him that it might not have been the brightest decision; to walk straight into this situation, without any knowledge of what was going on, and, more importantly, without anyone knowing where he was. He and Lindsay had split up a few hours ago, trying to follow different leads on their case, and they hadn’t bothered with a time or place to hook up again.

Maybe, he thought now as he stood with his hands lifted in the air, that had been a mistake.

He needed to do some quick thinking to get out of this situation again, preferably without too many cops working out of his precinct learning of his predicament, but he didn’t have the slightest idea how to start. The lack of a feasible plan made him decide just to stay where was right now and hope for the best outcome.

Lindsay wouldn’t stop teasing him for weeks if she found out about this – Danny Messer, arrested by their own people, he thought, irritation bubbling up in him. He opened his mouth, but before he could say a single word, the other man took a step to the side.

“Put down the weapon and lie down on the ground!” he ordered, his voice loud and clipped. He didn’t sound as if he had any sense of humor at all, and Danny did as he had been told without a single word of protest crossing his lips.

The situation, he thought darkly when strong hands grabbed his wrists and cuffed them at the small of his back, had just gotten a lot more uncomfortable. Still, there was no reason to panic yet.

There still was the chance that the Nightwatcher would realize that he’d made a mistake and would let him go really soon.

“Hey, listen,” he said, his voice muffled slightly, “my badge is on my belt, you can let me go. I’m a cop. I’m one of the good guys.”

His words brought no reaction, and Danny sighed.

As soon as they brought him to the precinct, someone was bound to recognize him, and if they took his fingerprints, they would soon figure out that he was a cop and would let him go. The only thing that would happen here was that he would miss a few hours of sleep and a decent breakfast at the diner he and Lindsay liked to go to after the end of their shift.

He could survive that.

No, he corrected himself when he was dragged back to his feet, his gun and his badge were collected and he was guided to a car and carefully pushed into it, not only could he survive that. He would get out of this situation with just a bad scare.

They couldn’t keep him locked up. He was a cop, after all, and he hadn’t done anything wrong.

As soon as Lindsay figured out where he was, she would get him out.

He just had to be patient and wait for her to get him.

Nothing easier than that.


	3. Chapter 3

~*+*~

“Hey,” Don greeted quietly and pushed the door closed behind himself.

“Hey,” Sheldon replied without turning away from the screen of the laptop in front of him. “How was your day?”

“Long,” Don replied and dropped his keys onto the table. He noted the small key someone had left there and rolled his eyes. Mac was a lot of things, but he wasn’t subtle. “How was yours?”

Sheldon sighed. “I’m sure Mac already told you,” he muttered. “The serum didn’t work.”

“I’m sorry,” Don murmured and reached out, to squeeze Sheldon’s tense shoulder. “Anything I can do?”

“No, I’m fine.” Sheldon leaned back in his chair until the back of his head brushed against Don’s stomach. “What about you, did you have anything to eat yet?”

Don laughed. “Yeah, I’m good,” he promised. “What about you, you hungry?”

“No,” Sheldon said, “not really.” The growling of his stomach, however, was loud enough to make Don chuckle softly.

“Come on,” he said. “Let’s get comfortable and some food into you.” Stepping back, he retrieved the small key from the table and pressed it into Sheldon’s hand before folding his fingers around the cold metal.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you,” Sheldon murmured softly. He didn’t protest when Don leaned over his shoulder and pushed the laptop closed.

“Starve, probably,” Don muttered fondly. “Come on. Up you go.” He tugged Sheldon to his feet and then toward the other man’s bedroom.

Sheldon laughed and reached for Don’s shoulder. “Maybe,” he murmured, but the smile didn’t quite reach his eyes.

Don brushed his fingertips against Sheldon’s ear. Unlike Mac’s, it was rounded and looked like it belonged to a human, even if the sharp teeth Sheldon displayed when he opened his mouth definitely weren’t.

“You know,” Sheldon said while reaching up and closing his hand around Don’s forearm. “I met Sid today.”

“Oh really?” Don said with a grin and stepped into Sheldon’s personal space, crowding him against the side of the bed. “What’d he say?”

“That he’s enjoying retirement, mostly,” Sheldon replied and unbuttoned the cuff of Don’s shirt sleeve. “He’s seriously thinking about going back to working as a chef. Or a coroner. He hasn’t decided yet.”

Don shook his head. “I miss that guy,” he admitted. “If there’s anyone who can beat Mac into eating something, it’s Sid.”

“Yeah,” Sheldon agreed. “Maybe we need to trick him.”

“Trick Mac?” Don asked skeptically. “How?”

“I don’t know,” Sheldon said and slid his hands up Don’s arms. “But between you and me, I’m sure we can figure something out.”

He started to unbutton Don’s shirt and pulled it off before frowning slightly. “We wouldn’t have this problem if the serum had worked out,” he murmured morosely.

“Hey,” Don said and gave him a nudge. “The next one will work. Just…don’t stop trying, okay?”

“Don’t worry,” Sheldon promised and tugged Don close to himself. “I won’t.” He turned the small key between his fingers and looked at it thoughtfully.

“Do it,” Don told him firmly.

Like every vampire, Mac was always worried about the safety of his Donor. If anything happened to Don, he and Sheldon wouldn’t have any sources of blood and would be forced to live on stale old blood, blood that wouldn’t be enough to keep them alive for a long time. And like every full-time Donor, Don was fitted with a high collar that protected his neck, the most vulnerable part of a Donor’s body, from other vampires. Only Mac and Sheldon had access to the key that removed the collar, and when Sheldon unbuckled it now, Don took the chance and rolled his head until the bones in his neck cracked loudly.

“Sorry,” he said sheepishly when he caught Sheldon’s frown. “What, don’t tell me you just lost your appetite.”

“Not that,” Sheldon replied, “But I’m thinking about suggesting that you stay home tomorrow and leave that collar off.”

“I’m good,” Don promised and tilted his head back. “Go ahead. Do it.”

Sheldon moaned quietly at the offer and grabbed Don’s shoulders, to guide him gently down onto the edge of the mattress. His mouth fastened over Don’s pale throat, instinct taking over as he fitted his sharp and pointy teeth over the vein he intended on biting. He was aware of Don taking a deep breath and slowly releasing it, the shoulders under his hands relaxing just as he was biting down gently. The taste of blood quickly filled his mouth, and Sheldon brushed his hands gently down Don’s arms as he swallowed again and again, until the thirst for blood in him was stilled.

Pulling back slightly, he ran his tongue over his teeth to clean them of the last drops of blood before he pressed his lips again tightly over the small puncture wounds. Vampire saliva, he knew, wasn’t actually healing them, but it would seal the wounds and allow Don’s body to heal on its own. It forced a vampire to bite their Donor several times during a long feeding session, to counteract the effect of the saliva, but Sheldon hadn’t needed that much blood today.

“Hey,” he murmured and carefully guided Don down, into the pillows. “You all right?”

“Fine,” Don managed to murmur, but he didn’t protest when Sheldon tugged his pants off with nimble fingers and pulled the sheets up around him.

“Naptime,” Sheldon whispered and curled himself around Don’s body. “And then, you go to your own bed.”

“Sure,” Don mumbled, already more than half-asleep, and rolled onto his side. “Whatever you say, Doc.”

Sheldon sighed, but he pressed himself closer to Don and wrapped an arm around his waist. Pressing his nose against the other man’s shoulder blade, he allowed his eyes to drift shut as his body started to process the fresh blood he’d ingested.

~*+*~

“That one.”

Danny looked up with some difficulty. His eyes felt gritty, as if he hadn’t slept in weeks, and the Nightwatchers had taken his glasses, together with his belt, his badge, his watch, and his shoes. His entire body ached in a dully throbbing way that seemed to be synchronized with the beat of his heart. His ribs hurt as if he’d been kicked repeatedly, and he was dirty and stiff.

What he needed, he thought grumpily while narrowing his eyes to focus on the two big strong guards that were moving toward him now, was a nice long shower and a long nap in a comfortable bed, and not one second longer of staying here, curled up on the hard ground with all these other unwashed people.

He didn’t belong here. He had a job and a purpose in life. Him being here, locked up by the Nightwatchers, was a big mistake, a screw-up in the system. He’d tried to tell that to the guards when they had taken his belongings, but they hadn’t listened to him.

Maybe someone – Lindsay, most likely – had finally realized that he wasn’t where he was supposed to be, that he hadn’t come home and that he was missing, and had made a few calls, to get him out of here. He didn’t even know exactly how long he’d been here. Without his watch and without any windows, it was almost impossible for him to tell the time, but it was long enough that someone had to have noticed that Danny had disappeared without a trace.

Until this mess was cleaned up, he was caught in this tiny cell in the Nightwatchers’ main building, together with a skinny pale girl that was silently crying and had done so ever since she’d been pushed into the cell, and two thickly muscled, drunk, middle aged guys who both screamed trouble to Danny. Fortunately, they had fallen asleep quickly after being brought here and hadn’t bothered anyone. Danny had tried to calm down the girl, but she’d only cried harder when he’d wrapped his arm around her, and after a while, Danny had given up.

The steel door that separated Danny from his freedom rattled as it was opened, and one of the two officers stepped into the cell and reached down to grab Danny’s upper arm and to pull him roughly to his feet.

“Come on,” he grunted and made a gesture, indicating that Danny should turn around.

Sluggishly, Danny followed the order. His wrists were cuffed behind his back, and he was guided out of the cell before he fully realized what was happening to him. Every fiber of his body protested against the sudden movements after sitting still for so long, but he clenched his teeth and refused to let a single sound escape. He wouldn’t give the officers that kind of satisfaction.

He was guided down a long hallway, around a few corners and through a few doors, until he finally was standing in what looked an office, in front of a desk. A tall, slender man dressed in black, with a high collar that ended just below his jaw, sat behind it. His hair was combed and parted perfectly, and he was leaning back in his chair now to muster Danny from head to toe.

“Are you Danny Messer?” the man finally asked. The collar around his throat gave him away as a Donor, and Danny knew that he had to be careful when interacting with this man. He didn’t want to annoy the vampire that belonged to that one.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Danny managed to say. His voice was rough and scratchy, and he swallowed thickly.

The Donor’s dispassionate gaze went down Danny’s body, from the tips of his unwashed hair over the shirt he’d been wearing for days now to the sock that had a hole in the left big toe.

“You have been selected,” he informed Danny with a distasteful curl of his upper lip.

“Selected?” Danny repeated, disbelief filling his still rough voice. “That must’ve been a mistake.”

The Donor stiffened behind his desk, which, a small part of Danny’s brain thought, was quite a feat considering his already board-like posture.

“So you are not Mister Danny Messer?” he asked, his voice sharp like a good kitchen knife. “Occupation police officer?”

“I am Danny Messer,” Danny replied, his voice rising in agitation. He tugged at the cuffs that held his wrists, but it was useless.

“In that case, sir…” The Donor sneered again, “…there was no mistake. You’ve been selected and matched.”

Danny grimaced. “I can’t be selected,” he protested. “I have the paperwork, to keep me from being put in there!”

The Donor glared at Danny. “Your protective status has been revoked,” he informed him coldly. “You were in the pool and you were selected. Stop resisting. You can’t change it.”

He gave a nod, and the two guards that had brought Danny here grabbed his elbows and started to haul him out of the office and down a series of hallways and off to an uncertain future.

~*+*~

Don blinked his eyes open just as Mac shook his shoulder a second time. Sheldon next to him was already sitting up and rubbing his eyes, and Don quickly followed his example. “Mac? What time is it?” he asked, his words slurred together.

“Early,” Mac murmured and pressed a glass of juice into Don’s hand. “Drink.”

Don didn’t protest. He lifted the glass to his lips and took a sip before asking, “What’s wrong?”

“Besides Sheldon oversleeping?” Mac shook his head slightly. “Another attack on a claimed Donor,” he murmured. “She managed to escape, but her vampire was furious. Ripped the attacker to pieces, in front of the already traumatized Donor. Stella’s talking to her right now, trying to find out what triggered the attack.”

Sheldon didn’t say a single word and climbed off the bed. He left the room and locked the door to the bathroom behind himself.

“Great job,” Don muttered and stood to bring the now empty glass back into the kitchen. “Now he feels guilty about his stupid serum not working.” He sighed and shook his head slightly, to get rid of the daze of sleep and blood loss.

“We both know it’s not Sheldon’s fault,” Mac replied. “He’s a good scientist.”

Don rolled his eyes. “Tell him that, not me,” he suggested before stepping out of the room.

The apartment was mostly dark, the only light coming from the room he’d just stepped out of. Don didn’t mind as he padded through the main room and toward the room that was technically his, even if he didn’t spend that much time there. He knew the layout of the place by heart and didn’t need any light to find his way around. Grabbing a clean shirt, he pulled it on and went back to the kitchen, to find something to eat.

The kitchen had become the part of the apartment where he could almost do whatever he wanted. The vampires didn’t need to eat like he did and didn’t pay too much attention to the things he did here.

He sighed softly and allowed his thoughts to drift back to what Mac had said, about Donors being attacked.

It almost surprised him that his phone hadn’t rung yet, calling him to deal with the repercussions of another attack. Don didn’t have a formal education in dealing with the aftereffects of a vampire attack, but he had a knack for listening to people and asking the right questions, helping the victims to remember details which in turn helped the police to track down the attacker.

A glance at the clock told him that it was, in fact, still early. He’d only slept for about an hour.

He frowned. It was unusual that Mac was already home, but then Don understood the fear and worry about something happening to a Donor. Without him, both Mac and Sheldon would be without a source of fresh blood, and Mac had gone for long enough without any that he was jumpy and twitchy already.

Soft steps behind him made him turn around, and Sheldon stepped up to him and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. “I’m off to the lab,” he murmured. “Try to get some more rest, okay? I might have an idea what went wrong with the last serum.”

“Okay,” Don nodded. “Good luck with that.”

He watched the vampire step out of the kitchen and waited until he could hear the door close behind him before turning back to the food in front of him.

Sheldon had been right. They needed to bring Mac to stop being stubborn and eat before he either became too weak and died, or before he snapped, like all the vampires who didn’t have a Donor and attacked someone who could fulfill their needs, and since Don was the closest and most compatible source of blood for Mac, chances were that he would be the one to face the consequences of Mac snapping.

He had seen the results of a vampire snapping more than once, and it never was a pretty sight. He preferred not ending up like these victims.

A sharp pain pulled him from his thoughts, and he cursed quietly as he looked down and realized that he’d been lost so far in his own thoughts that he hadn’t paid attention to what he was doing and had cut himself with the knife.

The cut was only small, but a drop of blood quickly collected on its edge and started to slide down his finger.

Don sighed and put the knife down, to wash off the blood, when suddenly, he had an idea.

For a moment, he allowed himself a grin before schooling his face back into a neutral expression.

“Mac?” he called out and turned, to find the vampire before the small cut stopped bleeding.

It didn’t need much to get a hungry vampire to give in to the urge to eat, he knew that – it was what had caused all these vampires to snap and succumb to the blood rage, after all – and a single drop of blood should do the trick here.

“Hey, Mac?” he called again and stepped into the main room of the apartment. It was both a living room and an office, the walls lined with shelves for all the medical and forensic texts both vampires needed in their lines of work. Mac was sitting at the desk in the corner, where Don had found Sheldon a few hours ago, but he looked up and sniffed when Don stepped into the room.

Don crossed the room with a few quick steps and held out his injured finger to Mac.

Mac grasped his wrist carefully and looked at the small injury with a raised eyebrow.

“Don…” he started, but before he could add anything else, Don interrupted him.

“Cut myself,” he explained. “Kiss it better?”

Mac’s fingers were cool against his wrist, he noticed. The vampire needed to eat, sooner rather than later.

“Please tell me you didn’t do this on purpose,” Mac said, his eyes still on the small drop of blood.

Don grimaced. “I didn’t,” he said. “You should know me better than that!”

Mac shrugged slightly, but he lifted Don’s hand to his mouth and pressed a gentle kiss against the injured finger. His tongue licked off the blood carefully, and Don swallowed at the sight.

It only took seconds for Mac’s saliva to close the cut, and he pulled away from Don, even if he could feel warm blood, so close to the surface of Don’s skin, calling to him and trying to seduce him to take more.

“Mac.” Don’s voice was sharp, his eyes troubled.

“I’m fine,” Mac managed and swallowed with some difficulty. The few drops of blood on his tongue had woken his appetite for more, and he clenched his teeth and struggled to get himself back under control.

“That’s why you’re here, right?” Don said, his voice rising in agitation. “You couldn’t handle the scene, right? You had to back out and let Stella handle it. The blood was too much for you.”

“Stella is more than capable of taking the lead on this case,” Mac replied stiffly. He was still struggling with his instincts.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not right,” Don argued, and there was nothing Mac could say to that. Don was right, but Mac still couldn’t allow himself to drink his Donor’s blood. Not when he knew that Sheldon had done so recently, and Sheldon needed the blood more than he did.

Don shoved his wrist into Mac’s face. Blue veins pulsed with warm blood under the pale, thin skin, and Mac could only stare at it, frozen in place.

“I swear, Mac,” he said, his voice quiet and furious. “You have two choices here. Either you bite me now or I’ll take that damn kitchen knife and do the job for you!”

Mac managed to shake off his rigidness and grabbed Don’s arm, pulling it way from his face. “Don’t,” he said, his voice rough and scratchy.

“Then do it,” Don replied, his voice still hard and uncompromising, and a sound of total anguish escaped Mac’s throat as he struggled with himself. Don shoved his wrist against Mac’s mouth again, and Mac frowned as instincts threatened to take over. He yanked Don’s arms away and turned it slightly, looking for the perfect angle.

The first taste of fresh blood filled his mouth and his entire consciousness. Every single cell of his body suddenly yearned for it, and he swallowed slowly, letting the metallic-tasting liquid run down his throat and warming him from the inside. Vaguely, he was aware of Don leaning against him and stroking the pointed tip of his ear gently.

He took a few more sips before pressing his tongue firmly against the bite marks and soothing them.

“More,” Don protested, but Mac licked the wounds again and stopped the flow of blood before pulling away.

He saw immediately that he’d been too rough and that he had left bruises on Don’s skin, having sucked too hard instead of letting the blood flow at its own speed into his mouth. It was a beginner’s mistake; one he regretted as soon as he realized what he’d done.

“You need more,” Don protested, but Mac shook his head.

“You can’t give any more,” he replied, his voice firm. “And you won’t.”

Don looked grim. “Call Sid, then,” he ordered. “Ask him.”

Mac sighed and stood to pull Don into a brief hug. “Sid was a Donor for forty years,” he said patiently. “He served his time.” He rubbed Don’s back gently. “Did anyone ever tell you that you’re bossy?”

“Yeah, well,” Don murmured, “I learned from the best, Mac.”

The phone rang.

Mac took a step back and reached for it. “Taylor.”

While he listened, Don had the opportunity to watch him. A deep line had appeared on Mac’s forehead. That never meant anything good, Don knew, and he wondered if there had been another attack.

On the other hand, he noticed, the feverish gleam had already disappeared from Mac’s eyes, and his cheeks had started to show some color. Within twenty-four hours, he knew, the vampire would look less like a walking corpse and more like a living being.

“Well?” Don asked as soon as Mac put down the phone. “New case?”

“No,” Mac replied. “An offer for a Donor.” He ran a hand through his hair. “If we’re interested, we need to go down to the Nightwatch Central Station today, or they’ll call the next name on their list.” He frowned slightly. “If we don’t take a look, we won’t be on top of the list for the next one.”

“So, what are you waiting for?” Don asked, amusement and a faint glimmer of excitement in his eyes.

Mac chuckled. “For you to get dressed,” he pointed out. “Unless you don’t want to take a look at our potential Donor…”

Don laughed, and he allowed Mac to fuss over him for a long moment, straightening his clothes and closing the collar around Don’s throat, and finally handing him the thin gloves, which Don accepted with a small nod.

“Shouldn’t we call Sheldon, too?” he asked curiously, but Mac shook his head. “This is just to establish our interest,” he pointed out. “You know how this works.”

“Only in theory,” Don replied. “I don’t even remember if you brought Sid when you picked me up.”

“We did, of course,” Mac said. “He was the one who had to deal with you. Check your homework and all that.”

“I was seventeen. I was able to do my own homework,” Don pointed out and wriggled his fingers into the gloves.

“Yeah?” Mac couldn’t stop the small grin from escaping. “Didn’t stop you from trying to make him help you.”

“What can I say, I’ve always been a smart kid,” Don grinned and smoothed the sleeves of his shirt down. “Want me to drive?”

~*+*~


	4. Chapter 4

“So…what now?” Don murmured while trying to reach under his wide collar to scratch his neck.

Mac gave him an amused glance. It looked as if didn’t matter that Don had gone through the Selection and Matching-process himself, or that he regularly helped other Donors through the process.

“Now we meet our potential new Donor,” he said calmly.

Don gave up his attempts to alleviate the itch of healing skin and sighed. “And you’re sure that this is necessary?” he asked quietly. “I can handle it, you know.”

Mac gave him a frown. “Don’t start again,” he warned.

Don just grimaced. “I won’t,” he promised. “I just…if this one doesn’t work out, I guess I just don’t want you to worry too much about it.” He shook his head and continued before Mac could reply. “So we’re getting a new kid in the house?”

“Not a kid,” Mac said and held out a file for him.

“Get outta here, one of you gave up a grown Donor?” Don asked in surprise as he took the folder and opened it.

“Not exactly, no,” Mac replied, but he fell silent and allowed Don to study the file for himself. Don was smart, and Mac didn’t plan on keeping anything from him.

“A cop, huh?”

Mac nodded. “Yeah, a cop.”

“But he’s compatible with you guys.”

It wasn’t a question, but Mac nodded nonetheless.

“You’ve seen that he’s trouble, right?” Don said as he closed the file and put it down on the table. “That would be the only reason I can think of that would have him end up in the pool, having his protected state revoked.”

“Thank you for making it sound like a punishment,” Mac replied with a small smile. “As if you ever had to suffer since you’ve been Selected.”

Don shrugged. “No, but I’ve been lucky,” he simply pointed out. “And it’s not as if I had my entire life turned around there.”

Don was bringing up a valid point there, Mac had to admit, but before he could reply, a soft cough made both men look up.

“Mr. Taylor, he is ready to see you now,” the Donor who had greeted them first when they’d come down to the station reported.

Mac nodded and straightened his jacket. “We will follow you,” he said and tilted his head invitingly.

The Donor hesitated slightly.

“It is unusual for a Donor to join his Master in picking his or her replacement,” he pointed out, and Don decided that he didn’t like this Donor one bit.

Judging from the sudden and deep frown on Mac’s forehead, he wasn’t the only one to think so.

“I’ve always brought my Donors with me,” he pointed out, his voice icy.

The other Donor stared at Don speculatively. “The rules have changed quite a bit,” he finally said. “Bringing retiring Donors – I assume there is something wrong with yours, perhaps a disease? He does look a bit pale.”

Don had known Mac since he was seventeen and had been matched to the vampire, and he rarely had seen him really angry. Right now, however, there was no doubt about the cold fury in the vampire’s bright green eyes. When Mac squared his shoulders and snapped his fingers, Don knew what to do. On silent feet, he stepped around the table until he was standing right behind Mac’s left shoulder while giving the other Donor a dark glare.

Nobody was replacing him just yet.

The other Donor flinched under their combined glares, but he didn’t resist anymore and lead them down the hallway, to meet the man who would maybe move in with them soon.

~*+*~

It wasn’t, Danny thought while shifting nervously from one bare foot to the other, as if being Selected was necessarily a bad thing. A lot of people were Donors – both casual and fulltime – and seemed happy, or at least content, with it.

It just wasn’t anything for him.

When he had turned seventeen, he’d been running around after Louie instead of applying to get Selected, and when Louie had told him that being Selected would be horrible, Danny had believed him without hesitation and without wondering how his brother could know that.

He’d still believed that being Selected was a bad thing to happen years later, when he’d already figured out that Louie hadn’t been the glowing role model Danny always had thought him to be, and he never had reason to change his mind about it. He’d managed to slip through the raster, had avoided random blood tests that could have determined him for a life as Donor, and had lived a happy life without bloodsuckers controlling every aspect of his life.

And now, they had finally caught up with him and he had been Selected as a Donor. Apparently, there was a long list of vampires who had just been waiting for Danny’s blood.

It was pretty unreal, he thought while shifting back to his other foot. He’d never expected that this would happen to him, trusting his luck and his badge to keep him safe, especially since he wasn’t one of those young, bright-eyed, pretty kids anymore who had been groomed from birth for a life as a Donor.

The guards had finally taken off his handcuffs and had allowed him to take a shower. They had given him clean clothes; sweatpants that were hanging low on his hips and a t-shirt, and had told him that a vampire would meet him here.

His match.

The vampire who was responsible that Danny was in this situation in the first place.

He didn’t know yet who this person was, but he already hated them with a fiery passion. If that certain vampire – and all the others on that stupid list – didn’t need this special kind of blood, nobody would have bothered Danny and forced him to be a Donor.

He wondered if strong emotions like hate would make a difference in the quality of his blood. One thing was for sure: if hate made his blood inedible, he would be free again soon. Besides – he straightened slightly – there had to be a way for him to say no. They couldn’t force him to give up his life. He wouldn’t let them. They would have to chain him down if they wanted him to stay with a vampire.

The door was slowly pushed open, and Danny squared his shoulders defiantly.

He would fight, and he would not give up until he was back where he belonged: at work and in his old life.

The man entering the room was tall, but not taller than Danny. He had a square jaw, short brown hair and he was wearing a suit with a blue dress shirt. His eyes were glinting in an unnaturally bright green color, and his skin was unhealthy pale, identifying him without a doubt as a vampire.

Danny swallowed thickly. They had told him that a vampire would talk to him, but he hadn’t expected a vampire with so much charisma. Even if the vampire was too pale to be healthy, it was obvious that he was in control of himself and the situation he was in.

“Danny Messer?” the vampire asked calmly.

Danny lifted his chin challengingly. “Yes,” he replied. “And you are?”

The vampire tipped his head slightly. “Nice to meet you,” he said politely. “My name is Mac Taylor. This is Don Flack.” He nodded toward the man who had followed him into the room.

That one, Danny knew immediately, was a Donor. Tall and lanky, with blue eyes, he wore the high collar of a Donor and gloves, the usual attire of a full-time Donor.

“Look,” he said before the vampire – Taylor – could continue. “This has been a mistake.”

The vampire lifted a corner of his mouth in amusement, but without showing his teeth. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Danny said firmly and bounced slightly on the balls of his feet. They were getting cold, and he hated how the clothes he had been given made him feel exposed and unprotected. “See, I’m not…”

“Not what?” the vampire asked when Danny trailed off.

“Not a Donor,” Danny muttered.

Taylor gave him a long look. “No, you’re not,” he finally said. Danny flinched. It was one thing to refuse this lifestyle for himself, but the rejection from the vampire still stung.

“Why don’t we sit down before we continue this?”

Numbly, Danny nodded and settled into one of the chairs around the table. His feet were freezing by now.

“Danny.” Taylor frowned slightly. “Have you ever given blood to any of us?”

A shiver ran down Danny’s spine, and he clenched his hands in tight fists. “Yes,” he managed to say through gritted teeth. “I hated it.”

“Why?”

Danny could detect nothing but genuine curiosity in the vampire’s voice, but he still felt reluctant to reveal the circumstances of that one experience. Mutely, he shook his head.

Taylor glanced down briefly. “Would you be willing to give this a shot?” he asked quietly.

“No!” Danny shook his head firmly. “It was a mistake. I’m not a Donor!”

“No, not yet. But you will be.” Suddenly, there was a hard edge in Taylor’s voice. It made Danny flinch.

“Mac. Stop it.”

It was the first thing Danny heard the Donor, Flack, say, and he was surprised by the sharp warning in the man’s voice. So far, he had given the expression of being one of those devoted, submissive Donors that didn’t have a free will and only lived to serve their vampires.

Mac inhaled slowly. “I apologize,” he said stiffly. “I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable, Mr. Messer. Danny.”

“Then let me go,” Danny demanded loudly, trying to hide the shakiness of his voice.

“He can’t do that,” Flack pointed out calmly. “If he leaves now, the next guy on the list gets a shot at you. I’m sure you know how that works. And there’s no guarantee that the next guy is as nice as Mac is.”

Danny saw how the vampire reached for his Donor and griped his wrist tightly, his fingers pressing over Flack’s pulse point, and he also realized that the vampire’s ears were pointy.

Pointy-eared bloodsuckers never were a good sign, Danny knew, and he became even more aware of the fact that he was absolutely unprotected.

The whole situation confused him – Taylor obviously had a Donor, one he adored, otherwise there was no explanation why he’d allowed him to be here in the first place, or why he just let his Donor talk to him so sharply and stop him from just taking Danny right here and now.

“I don’t understand this,” he admitted after a long moment of silence.

“What don’t you understand?” Taylor asked gently.

“You obviously already have a Donor. Why aren’t you using him? Why…” Danny swallowed. “…why are you replacing him?”

“Nobody is replacing Don,” Mac said firmly, and, judging from the sudden grimace on Flack’s face, his grip on the man’s wrist tightened.

Danny frowned confusedly. “I…I just don’t understand any of this.”

“H’s not trying to replace me,” Flack explained and leaned forward. “There’s not just Mac in the family. You know how vampire families work?”

Danny shrugged. “A family, that’s one creator and the vampires he made,” he said. “They all have the same requirements for blood.”

Flack nodded. “Mac here has only one heir,” he explained easily. “And Sheldon is one of the guys who work on a serum to keep vampires fed and happy.”

Danny nodded slowly as the puzzle pieces fell into place. “You can’t have a hungry blo- vampire work with blood samples,” he muttered. “”Which is why you’re feeding him and not…him.” He nodded toward Mac.

Flack grinned. “Exactly.”

Danny frowned. “So…what do you want from me?” he asked.

“Your blood,” the vampire replied evenly. “We expect you to feed us and that you take care of yourself and don’t do anything that might put your health and safety at risk. We ask that you won’t let other vampires drink your blood – once you’re ours, you’re ours, and you will remain ours. In return, we will take care of everything you need – food, shelter, clothes, health care, you name it, we’ll handle it. This means that we will care for you for the rest of your life, even if, for some reasons, you can’t give us your blood anymore.”

He swallowed and lifted his hand, to run it over his face.

The vampire looked exhausted, and Danny couldn’t help feeling slightly sorry for him.

Mac shook his head slightly. Suddenly, cold sweat broke out of every pore of his body, and black spots appeared in front of his eyes.

“Mac?” Don asked and worriedly reached for the vampire. His words echoed in Mac’s ears and bounced around his mind.

“I’m fine,” he managed to say, even if he knew that it wasn’t true. He was starved, and his body was shutting down.   
Vaguely, he realized that he that he was pressing his teeth together, to alleviate the throb in them, and that his hands were shaking.

Don hissed angrily. “I told you to eat more,” he whispered, but there was no accusation in his voice, only worry. He, too, had realized what was happening with Mac.

Mac struggled to keep his breathing even.

“What’s wrong with him?” Danny asked. He was confused by the sudden shift of mood in the room and the unexpectedly strange behavior of the vampire.

“He’s dying,” Don explained sharply. “I tried to get him to eat earlier, but he didn’t take enough, and now, he’s shutting down. It’s been weeks since he had a full meal.” He yanked at his gloves, trying to get them off, but Mac took a rattling breath and shook his head.

“Don’t,” he wheezed. “Give me five minutes.”

“You need to eat,” Don insisted. “Please, Mac!”

“I know.” Mac took a slow, deep breath. “But you can’t, Don. Not a third time.”

Danny glanced from vampire to Donor, a frown etched into his forehead. Both Mac and Don were stubborn, that much was almost painfully obvious, and for a moment, it looked as if neither of them would step down, but finally, Don glanced down. His shoulders slumped slightly as he admitted defeat.

“Tomorrow, you eat,” he said. “No excuses. Sheldon can go a couple of days without.”

“Day after tomorrow,” Mac argued weakly. “You need the rest, Don.” His voice was scratchy and weak, but steady. To Danny, it didn’t look as if the vampire could go two more days without a proper meal, but he looked stubborn enough to try it, just to give Don the time to rest. Danny wasn’t sure how much blood a vampire would take for a normal meal, but if it was true that vampires had fed three times off of him on this alone already, the Donor really needed a break unless he wanted to risk his health.

Danny shifted in his chair as his instincts urged him to help, to offer his own blood. He was compatible with Mac Taylor, he could help him right now.

He didn’t even have to let the vampire bite him, he thought, his mind whirling. He knew vampires. They wouldn’t question his motivation once they smelled even the smallest drop of blood. He just had to find a way to keep the vampire’s mouth off of him.

One more glance at the pale and shaking vampire made the decision for him.

“Hey, Flack,” he said and stood. “You got a knife or something?” Everything had been taken from him when he’d been picked up, and he hadn’t received his personal belongings back yet.

Don gave him a confused frown, but he reached into the pocket of the vampire’s pants and pulled out a knife.

“What are you doing?” he asked, worry and suspicion coloring his voice.

“Can you hold back your vampire for five minutes?” Danny asked and grabbed one of the glasses from the middle of the table.

“In this state? Sure,” Don nodded and wrapped his hand tightly around Mac’s elbow.

“You know that vampire saliva is addictive, right?” he asked conversationally.

Don’s lips twitched slightly. “No,” he said. “Just…narcotic. And with some superglue qualities.”

“I don’t want any bloodsucker’s saliva on my body. Anywhere. Under no circumstances. That clear?”

Recognition sparkled in Don’s eyes. “Crystal clear,” he replied and handed over the knife. “Don’t cut too deep.”

“Not planning to,” Danny muttered. Before he could rethink what he was planning on doing, he swiftly pressed the blade of the knife to the fleshy part of his palm.

The vampire made a wounded, desperate sound at the back of his throat, a sound Danny had only heard once before, and he still had nightmares from that incident. It was incredible that Taylor hadn’t already attacked Flack, Danny thought while his blood dripped into the glass and the flesh of his hand throbbed in beat with his pulse.  
The vampires Danny had dealt with in the past would have already forced themselves on the next person they were compatible with. Taylor’s self-restraint impressed him.

He had no idea how much blood the vampire needed to get through the next few days, until Flack could handle it again, but when the glass was full, he pushed it across the table, toward the vampire.

“More,” Flack told him tightly, and Danny grabbed another glass and watched with a mixture of curiosity and disgust how the vampire took the glass with trembling fingers and lifted it to his mouth, to drink greedily.

When the second glass was almost full, the blood flow slowed, and Danny gave Flack a questioning look.

Instead of replying, Flack handed him a handkerchief to wrap around the injured hand.

Danny took it and frowned. “That’s it?” he asked in disbelief. “He doesn’t need more blood?”

Flack snorted. “He needs more,” he said. “This is the bare minimum that lets him get his damn control back. If he’s healthy, it’s enough, but right now, it is not.”

“Then why did you stop me?” Danny asked and wrapped the fabric tightly around his hand.

“I didn’t think you wanted to lose too much blood on your first attempt,” Don admitted. “You need to get that looked at and cleaned up. Get the blood stopped.” He was rubbing Mac’s back soothingly while the vampire sipped the second glass of blood at a more sedated pace.

“Exactly,” Mac agreed. His voice already sounded better.”Thank you.” He glanced down at the glass in his hand. “I’m sorry for losing control like this.”

Danny laughed sharply. “Losin’ control?” he repeated and shook his head. “Trust me, that wasn’t losing control.” His uninjured hand went back and rubbed his shoulder.

“I didn’t plan on doing this,” Mac admitted, not reacting to Danny’s words. “I just wanted to get to know you a little.” He nodded toward Danny’s bandaged hand. Blood was slowly seeping through the white fabric. “I can heal that for you.”

“No.” Danny shook his head firmly. “I told you, I don’t want vampire saliva anywhere on me.”

“Okay.” Mac turned to Don. “Could you inform the guards outside that Danny needs medical attention? He’s still bleeding.”

Danny flinched slightly. Mac Taylor’s awareness of him bleeding couldn’t be a good thing.

Don slowly got to his feet. “Sure thing,” he agreed. “Will you be okay?”

Mac nodded. He and Danny were silent until the door closed behind Don.

“I wish we could start this all over,” Danny murmured.

Mac managed a small smile. “Hello,” he said. “My name is Detective Mac Taylor, and I’m a vampire.”

Danny frowned. “I’m Danny. Messer. I’m a cop.” He sighed again. “I was a cop,” he corrected himself. “Now, I’m a living lunchbox.”

“You’re more than that,” Mac assured him. “Let me prove that not all vampires are evil bloodsuckers.”

Danny flinched. “Picked that up, huh?” he muttered before asking, “I don’t really have a choice in this, do I? I already let you drink my blood.”

He swallowed as the ramifications of his action became clear to him. He might have saved the vampire’s life, but in turn, he’d given up the life he’d led so far.

“I could’ve just as well signed my own death certificate,” he concluded bitterly.

Mac shook his head. “Don’t think of it as a death certificate,” he said, his voice soft. “Take it as a new chance. A fresh start.”

“That means I have to stop working,” Danny pointed out in what he considered to be a reasonable voice. “I like being a cop.” He sat back down and shook his head. “What am I supposed to do all day long, then?”

“It’s up to you,” Mac told him. “You could go back to school.” He sighed. “I understand your…concerns about vampire saliva,” he said. “And while it would make things easier, for all of us, we can accept that and can work out something.”

Danny pressed his lips tightly closed, but he didn’t reply.

There wasn’t anything else he could say.

~*+*~

“Are you okay? You’re quiet,” Mac murmured as he ran his hands along Danny’s tense shoulders.

Danny shrugged. “Nothing to say,” he muttered and tugged at the bandage on his hand. He was spared from saying anything else by a soft knock on the door.

“Okay,” Mac said before stepping back from Danny. “Now get undressed.”

“What?” Danny squeaked before coughing uncomfortably.

“You heard me,” Mac said and went to answer the door. Danny turned to glare at him while yanking at his shirt and dropping it onto a chair.

“Why do you want me to take off my clothes?”

“To make sure nobody else gets a shot at you,” Mac explained and closed the door again. “Off with those pants.”

Danny blushed uncomfortably, but he stiffly stepped out of his sweatpants and folded them carelessly.

“Come here,” Mac said and ran an appreciating gaze over Danny’s body while putting the bag he had been handed on the table. The Nightwatch emblem was embroidered onto the black fabric.   
Danny bit his lip, but he followed the order without protesting.

Mac nodded. “You’ve never been a real Donor,” he said. It wasn’t a question, and Danny didn’t answer. “So I think you’re unfamiliar with this procedure.”

Danny nodded and watched as Mac pulled several rolls of dark, thick fabric out of the bag.

“Vampires prefer a few spots on your body to feed,” Mac explained. “The neck. The inside of your wrist.” Mac’s fingertips brushed against Danny’s forearm, and if he’d noticed the scars at the hollow of Danny’s throat, he didn’t comment on them. And, Danny knew, there was no way the vampire could have missed these scars – not with Danny standing in just a pair of underwear in front of him. The vampire had already proven that he was a good observer and quick to pick up even the smallest clues.

“The inside of your thighs,” Mac continued and glanced down.

“So what are you going to do about that?” Danny wanted to know.

“This.”

Mac kneeled down and started wrapping the heavy bandages around one of Danny’s thighs. “I’m protecting what’s mine. You’re still injured, and the smell of your blood...it’s distracting, and not just for me.”

“You’re turning me into a mummy?” Danny asked suspiciously.

Mac gave him a grin, showing the pointy teeth that were so characteristic for his kind. “Yeah, I am,” he agreed. “Or a special present.”

“Great,” Danny grumbled, but he didn’t move while Mac carefully wrapped him up and finally fastened the high collar around Danny’s neck.

“I can’t move,” Danny complained when Mac was done.

“You’ll learn,” Mac promised and handed him his pants and his shirt. Danny wrinkled his nose, but he took them and put them on without voicing a single word of protest.

“It’s not that bad, actually,” Mac continued. “I know that Don skates and plays hockey and basketball and everything.”

Danny tried to shake his head in disbelief, but he gave up quickly when he suddenly felt as if he couldn’t breathe anymore. “You let him play hockey and I can’t go to work?”

“We didn’t let him be a cop either,” Mac pointed out mildly. “Although he really wanted that.”

“Huh,” Danny said.

“Come on,” Mac said finally and put his hand on Danny’s elbow. “The sun will come up soon, and I want to know you safe and settled in.”

“I have to stay with you? I can’t go back to my place?” Danny wanted to know.

“For now,” Mac said. “And at least until your hand is healed. We don’t want any surprises, Danny.”

Danny sighed and slipped into his shoes.

“It doesn’t have to be permanent,” Mac promised, but again, Danny didn’t reply.


	5. Chapter 5

~*+*~

The apartment was pitch black, which wasn’t surprising since it didn’t have many windows. Danny shivered slightly as he tiptoed across the length of the living room, his shoes in his hand and his breath held. It was a nice apartment, spacious and certainly big enough for four people, and It was tidy and it hadn’t taken Danny long to figure out that each of the three men already living here had contributed to the design and look of the place. Mac was the one who preferred dark wooden furniture, Hawkes, who had taken a look at Danny’s injured hand and had assured them that it would heal cleanly, liked light-colored wooden shelves that were almost breaking down under the weight of his books, and Don…Danny shook his head slightly as his thoughts went to the other Donor. As much as he hated being forced into the life of a Donor, he had found an almost instant liking to the quick-witted taller man.

However, it wasn’t enough to keep him here, grounded in this apartment until his hand was healed and the vampires could be sure that he was docile and obedient. He had been here only a few short hours and already he was feeling restless and itched to be free. He found the bandages and the collar stifling and had taken the first opportunity to rip the bandages off and loosening the collar, but it hadn’t been enough to make him settle down on the unfamiliar bed and go to sleep. A glance at his watch had confirmed that it was almost noon when he’d finally given up and had decided to sneak out. Unfortunately, he couldn’t take off the collar completely, but just loosening it had helped him ease his breathing.

The darkness and the silence of the apartment had convinced him that everybody else was asleep, and he’d taken his chance to get his freedom back.

He just wasn’t cut out for this life, and Mac Taylor just had to accept that, he thought while pulling the door closed behind himself, double-checking to make sure it was really locked. On his socks, he went to the elevator, and only then did he put his shoes on.

Stepping out of the building, he had to stop for a moment to allow his eyes to adjust to the brightness of daylight. Squinting his eyes, he felt tears of pain tickle the back of his lids, and he sighed as the tension in his shoulders eased.

He hated being locked up.

He didn’t think Mac would be happy with him for doing this, but if he was honest, he couldn’t bring himself to care. He needed the fresh air and his freedom to survive, and that was more important to him than the disapproval of a bloodsucker – a vampire, he mentally corrected himself – he barely knew.

“Thought I might find you here,” an amused voice said, right behind him, and Danny whirled around with a surprised yelp, his hand instinctively going to his belt, trying to pull his gun out of his holster.

His hand came up empty. He hadn’t gotten his weapon back when he’d been released into Mac’s care, and the blood shot into his face and warmed it with embarrassment when he realized what he’d been doing.

Flack laughed. “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” he apologized and lifted both hands. He was wearing only one glove and that omnipresent collar, together with jeans and a long-sleeved sweatshirt. A pair of sunglasses was perched on the tip of his nose, and Danny couldn’t tell if he had bandages wrapped all around his body or not.

“Are you gonna tell them that I tried to sneak out?” he blurted out, the first thing that came to his mind. Immediately, he bit the tip of his tongue. He’d given himself away, and now Flack would drag him back to the apartment and Danny would be punished, just because he couldn’t keep his mouth shut and it was too late now to come up with a good excuse for him being outside.

Don laughed again and pushed his hands into the pockets of his jeans. “Depends,” he said, his voice serious. “Were you planning on sneaking back in later?”

Danny shifted from one foot to the other. This was his chance to try to redeem himself, limit the damage he’d done by not thinking.

“I don’t know,” he admitted and looked away. “Probably. I mean…there’s not a lot of places I could go.”

“You like being a cop.”

It wasn’t a question, but Danny still nodded.

“Why d you like it that much?” Don turned and indicated that Danny should walk with him.

Danny shrugged.

“To serve and protect, huh?” Don said when Danny didn’t reply. “That’s what you like. Why you do it. Not the salary.”

Danny bristled visibly. “The salary is okay.”

Don waved him off. “My old man was a cop, I know what the salary is like,” he explained. “Who knows, if I wasn’t doing this, maybe I would’ve become one, too.”

“Didn’t you ever want to, you know. Run away; do what you want to do instead of what you’re getting told?” Danny asked. His eyes slowly got used to the daylight, and he could see his surroundings more clearly now.

Don shrugged. “Once or twice, in the beginning,” he admitted. “But it’s not that bad, being a Donor. Mac and Sheldon…they’re both good people.”

“I still don’t get how you can just throw away your own life like this,” Danny muttered and kicked at the ground.

“Maybe if you give this a chance,” Don pointed out. “It’s not like we’re slaves or anything. And I didn’t throw away my life at all. I like it.”

“Let me ask you something,” Danny said and stopped. “How long have you been a Donor?”

Don calmly looked at him. “Since I was seventeen.”

“How can you be so sure that you couldn’t have a better life without vampires?” Danny demanded to know.

Don shrugged. “I can’t,” he replied. “Not a hundred percent. On the other side, how do you know that being a Donor is – how did you put it, the life of a walking lunchbox?” His blue eyes were suddenly icy. “Your job was to serve and protect,” he pointed out. “Then what’s wrong with serving and protecting a vampire?”

Danny had no answer for that.

Don waited a few heartbeats and finally sighed. “Come on,” he said. “I want to show you something.”

“What?”

“You’ll see.” Don grinned. “How good are you at shootin’ hoops?”

~*+*~

Don wasn’t surprised when he stepped through the door, still tugging at the glove covering his left hand, and found Mac waiting for them, but Danny froze and hunched u his shoulders defensively.

“Mac,” Don called out and put his hand gently on Danny’s shoulder. “I took Danny to see some of the kids here.”

Mac nodded, his gaze wandering over the two of them. Danny still didn’t meet his eyes, and Don was frowning at Mac, as if he wanted to will the vampire to play along with whatever scheme Don had come up with. Something else was wrong, too, he thought, and when Danny took a step toward him, propelled forward by Don’s hand on his back, he quickly realized what it was.

Danny moved easily, with a fluid grace that a part of Mac admired, but there was only one reason why Danny was able to move like that. He’d taken off the protective bandages, leaving only his injured hand wrapped. Mac felt the prick of irritation at the back of his mind, but he clenched his teeth tightly. His Donor was walking around unprotected, except for the collar, but even that one wasn’t tightened properly anymore. Even the best Donors needed time to get used to the attire and this was just Danny’s second day, he told himself firmly, besides, he had been with Don the entire time and hadn’t run off.

“Danny was really good with some of these kids,” Don said with a small smile. “You remember Alex? He’s fifteen, you brought him in a few months ago, he was in an attack?”

Mac nodded slowly, not taking his eyes off of Danny who squirmed uncomfortably under his intense stare.

“He talked to Danny. We have a description now,” Don revealed with grim satisfaction.

Mac nodded again. “Good work, Danny,” he praised, deciding to let the unwrapping slide this time. He would take care of it later, put the wrappings back on his Donor and talk to him about their importance, he decided.

Danny’s tongue slipped out to wet his bottom lip slightly. “Mac?” he asked hesitantly. He had some trouble addressing the vampire by name. Something in him insisted to call him ‘Mr. Taylor’ or ‘sir’.

“Yes?” Mac prompted and tilted his head slightly to the side, and Danny took a deep breath. “Can I…can I go to the precinct, catch up with my old partner, pick up a few of my things? I’m sure she’s worried about where I disappeared to, and I’d really like my phone back.”

Mac tilted his head to the other side. “Of course,” he said slowly. “But…” He reached out and tugged carefully on Danny’s collar. “First, we’ll fix this.”

Danny swallowed, but he let Mac tighten the collar around his throat, and when Mac pulled a pair of thin gloves from his pockets, he took them without a single word of protest. He was, Mac thought absent-mindedly, picking his fights and apparently had decided that fighting Mac on the subject of proper protection wasn’t worth it.

Finally, Mac nodded his satisfaction, and Danny turned toward Don. “You wanna come?” he asked. “Meet her?”

Don nodded. “Sure,” he said easily, “unless I’m needed…?”

“No, you go,” Mac assured him quickly. “You have a phone; I know how to get a hold of you if I need to.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s time for me to go to work anyways,” he added. “I’ll see you two in the morning.”

He brushed his fingers awkwardly against Danny’s elbow and squeezed Don’s wrist briefly before abruptly turning around to flag down a cab.

“Huh,” Danny said after a moment of silence. “I almost expected him to say something like ‘don’t go with strangers’ or ‘look both ways before crossing the street’ there.”

Don laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. “He’s not supposed to treat us like children,” he replied. “He’s worried because he likes us and because he depends on us, that’s all.”

“Yeah,” Danny murmured. “But it’s still weird, you know?” He frowned. “Vampires are crazy.”

“Yes,” Don agreed easily. “But not all of them are a bad kind of crazy.”

Danny wasn’t so sure about that, but he just ducked his head and pushed his hands into his pockets.

“Come on,” Don said, his voice quiet. “Let’s get going. You wanna call ahead; make sure your partner is around?”

Danny nodded, and Don handed him his phone without waiting for Danny to ask.

~*+*~

“Detective Taylor.” Mac frowned at the file in front of him, the phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear.

“Detective? Officer Lindsay Monroe.” The voice on the other end of the line was female, young and sounded nervous.

“What can I do for you, Officer?” Mac asked calmly.

“I called the Nightwatch to get your name,” she hastened to explain. “I was told that you’re the vampire Danny Messer was…um…assigned to.”

Mac’s attention snapped away from the case file in front of him. “That’s true,” he said with forced calmness as he sat up straight in his chair. A small knot of dread started to form at the pit of his stomach.

“Danny called me earlier, to meet up,” she said. “But he never made it. He gave me a number, to call in case something came up, but nobody is answering it.”

It had, the analytical part of Mac’s brain supplied, to be Don’s cell phone number, and if Don didn’t answer his phone, something bad must have happened. Don always answered his phone, in case Mac or Sheldon or one of the kids he worked with needed him.

He could hear Officer Monroe swallow. “I think it would be better if you came here,” she said hesitantly before giving him an address. In addition to her nervousness, something close to fear made her voice tremble slightly.

“I’m on my way,” Mac promised. He was out of his chair and halfway to the elevator before the phone came to rest completely on its cradle.

His thoughts were focused on his two Donors, and the cold knowledge that something had happened to them.


	6. Chapter 6

~*+*~

Don slowly blinked his eyes open and almost immediately wished that he hadn’t. A heavy wave of nausea crashed through him, and he found himself dry-heaving for several long moments, until he finally managed to get himself back under control.

Cool fingers brushed against his forehead, but he didn’t quite dare to open his eyes again and concentrated on breathing shallowly through his nose, to keep his rebelling stomach under control.

“Flack?” someone murmured close to his ear, and Don needed a moment to recognize the voice.

“Danny,” he rasped. “What happened? Where are we?”

“Hell if I knew,” Danny replied. “Somewhere in the sewers. Can you sit up?”

Don grimaced, but with Danny’s help, he managed to struggle into an upright position.

“We were attacked,” Danny told him. The fine lines around his eyes were more pronounced than they had been before, Don thought fuzzily, giving him a pinched look that was only aided by the way he pressed his lips together.

“Attacked?” he replied. “Who? Why?”

“Yeah, about that.” Danny brushed his palms over his jeans and glanced down, at the ground between them. Concrete, the small part of Don’s brain that didn’t hurt supplied. “It’s kinda my fault.”

For a long moment, they were both silent, and then Don shifted slightly.

“Your fault?” he rasped. “How’s this your fault?”

Danny exhaled slowly. “His name is Derek Andersen,” he muttered. “I arrested him, he tried to run, I got…injured. A few months ago.”

Don stared at him, not understanding for a long, torturing moment. “He’s a vampire,” he finally guessed.

Danny flinched.

“A vampire, and you took advantage of the fact that they tend not to think when in a rage,” Don continued.

“Yeah,” Danny admitted. “It’s pretty easy to accomplish and effective if you want to bring one down.”

“And pretty dangerous, too,” Don mumbled before swallowing against the nausea rising in his throat again.

“I’m sorry you got dragged into this,” Danny told him. “He was so fast…he had you by the collar and tossed against the wall before either of us could react.” Don could hear him swallow. “For a moment there, I thought you were dead,” he admitted, his voice low and pain-filled. “How are you feeling right now?”

Don grunted. “Right now? Like hell,” he admitted and lifted a hand to his pounding head. It came back sticky while a sharp pain raced along his nerve endings.

“Careful,” Danny murmured. “You were bleeding pretty badly there, for a moment.”

Don grimaced again. “I think I have a concussion,” he admitted. “Bleeding, you say?”

“Yeah. Why?”

“As soon as Mac figures out we’re missing, he’ll come after us. Bleeding is good. He can follow that,” Don explained before taking a deep breath and holding it for a moment. “He’ll be angry and worried, but he’ll find us.”

“I hope you’re right,” Danny whispered. “You look like hell.” He swallowed. “If I’d known they let that damn bloodsucker go…”

“But you didn’t know,” Don interrupted him, struggling to make his voice sound as firm as possible. “It’s not your fault. I swear, Messer, if you’re starting guilt tripping now, I will throw up on you.”

“Please don’t,” Danny said. “It was bad enough that I had to drag you here.”

“Which brings me to my next question. Where is here?” Don asked and shifted slightly.

“I’m not sure,” Danny admitted. “Somewhere underground. Sewers, I think. He blindfolded me, and I was busy not dropping your ass. You’re heavier than you look.”

“Sorry,” Don said and shifted again. He only now realized that there was a heavy chain wrapped around his ankle, tying him to the rough concrete wall. How that had escaped his attention before, he didn’t know, but he suspected the way his head was pounding had something to do with it. The chain was also wrapped around Danny’s ankle, hobbling him and tying them together.

“Mac will find us,” he whispered again and leaned his head against the cool wall.

“I just hope he won’t take too long,” Danny added darkly.

Don frowned. “What?” he murmured. With some difficulty, he managed to get his eyes open and studied Danny thoughtfully. “What are you not telling me, Danny?”

“Nothing,” Danny replied hastily.

“You’re lying,” Don murmured. “Where are we?”

Danny sighed and reached out, to wrap his fingers around Don’s wrist, the way he’d seen Mac do it. “It’s okay,” he whispered. “Mac will find us.”

“You’re hiding something from me,” Don said again, a deep frown etched into his forehead. “Danny?”

“I’m not hiding anything from you,” Danny said patiently and shook his head slightly. “You do remember your name, right?”

“Yeah, I do.” Don lifted a hand, to run it through his short hair, but at the last moment, he seemed to decide against it and reached for Danny instead. His fingers tangled in the collar of Danny’s shirt and tugged, revealing fresh wounds that didn’t have the chance to heal yet.

“Damn it, Messer,” he murmured as exhaustion, pain and defeat caught up with him. “He bit you? You let this nut job bite you?”

Danny lowered his head. “He promised he’d let you go,” he said softly. “You shouldn’t even be here, but the second your head split open…I guess he didn’t want to risk you identifying you, and you know how those bloodsuckers are, and he’s crazy enough that he’d try getting away with kidnapping both of us…” He trailed off, but Don didn’t reply. He’d dozed off, or he had fallen unconscious again, Danny didn’t know. He didn’t like either option.

He’d never in his life hoped for the appearance of a vampire, but right now, he couldn’t imagine a better thing than Mac Taylor tracking them down and freeing them.

~*+*~

“It’s blood,” Mac confirmed, his nostrils flaring at the familiar scent. “I think it’s Don’s.” He swallowed thickly against the rage building up in his body, like a wave that threatened to crash the protective walls of self-control he’d erected in himself. He had to try and stay calm, he told himself firmly, pressing his teeth together until the muscles in his jaw jumped. He wouldn’t help Danny and Don if he lost it now. He needed to think like a CSI, not like a worried vampire, and not let his emotions and his protective instincts guide him. Science was the answer here. He needed to process the scene. He needed Stella here. She was his best CSI, and she would have his back while making sure that the scene wasn’t compromised by the instincts that screamed so loudly at him.

“Are you sure?” Lindsay Monroe asked before biting her lip. “Of course you are. He’s your Donor, right?”

“Yes,” Mac said shortly. He looked around, trying to figure out where Don and Danny could have gone.

He needed his best people working this case, he thought, his hand already disappearing in the pocket of his coat, searching for his cell phone.

Stella, definitely, and Adam.

And he needed to call Sheldon.

This night was quickly turning into a nightmare.

~*+*~

“Mac.”

Mac didn’t turn around immediately, but he could feel his shoulders knot with tension at the sound of Stella’s voice. He had tried to help her and Adam to process the scene, but the faint scent of Don’s blood – so much of it, it had made his guts clench until he had felt as if he had to throw up, something he hadn’t done since he’d been turned into a vampire – had distracted him too much to be as effective as he knew he had to be.

“We found this,” Stella said and held up a clear evidence bag. In it was Don’s phone.

“Any idea where they are now?” he asked, his voice sounding as stiff as his body felt.

“We’re following the blood trail and we’re processing the evidence,” Stella replied gently. “Unless you have an idea how to find them, we have to wait and see.”

“We found the collars,” Mac pointed out. “Time is the one thing we don’t have. The one thing they probably don’t have.”

“We’re working as fast as we can,” Stella said firmly. “We will find them.”

~*+*~

“You look like hell, Mess,” Don murmured and pressed his fingers against Danny’s feverish hot skin. “You need a break.”

“Tell that to our crazy friend,” Danny replied, leaning heavily against Don’s side. “How’s your head feeling?”

“Better,” Don promised and pressed his cheek against the top of Danny’s head. “I have no clue how long we’ve been down here. You?”

“No,” Danny admitted, the word mumbled into Don’s collarbone. He was exhausted and pale, weakened by the numbers of time the vampire had drunk from him. Despite his disgust with the process and the obvious pain he felt every time the sharp teeth penetrated his skin, he’d refused to let the vampire feed from Don. Don had no idea how he’d managed to do that, but if there was one thing he’d learned about Danny during their captivity, it was that the other man was smart and determined. He was probably just as stubborn as Mac, in his own way, and he’d started to display a fierce protectiveness toward Don. In that, too, he resembled Mac.

Don was sure that part of that was because Danny still was feeling guilty about having brought them into this situation in the first place, but he still felt deeply touched that Danny had offered him his friendship in this way. From their first meeting, there had been no doubt that Danny distrusted all vampires deeply, and if the scars at the hollow of his throat were an indicator, he had every reason to do so. And yet, he’d allowed this mentally unstable vampire to bite him, to drink his blood, just to protect Don.

“You need a break,” he whispered softly. “He’s killing you, Danny.”

“Yeah,” Danny replied, his voice just as quiet. “We need to get out of here. If we wait for Mac to find us, he’ll kill both of us.”

Don swallowed against the feeling of nausea that had been his constant companion since they had been brought here, even if he suspected that this time, it didn’t have anything to do with the concussion. He hated to admit it, but Danny was right.

“First, we need to get out of these,” he said and kicked his feet slightly. The chain had rubbed his ankles raw, and he knew that Danny was off even worse after several attempts to free himself.

“Right,” Danny agreed. “Any idea how to do that?” He lifted his head from Don’s shoulder and blinked owlishly at him. Don didn’t remember at which point Danny had lost his glasses, and he wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to ask Danny about it.

“Not really,” he admitted. “And even if we manage to get out of the chains, we’re still…here.” He nodded to the dark ceiling above them. “He has the advantage. He knows the area. We don’t. He has had enough blood to keep him fed. We had barely any food.”

“I know,” Danny grumbled.

“The way I see it,” Don murmured and tucked Danny back tight against his side, “we don’t have much of a choice. We need to overwhelm him, make sure he doesn’t follow us.”

“You ever killed a vampire?” Danny whispered.

“No,” Don murmured back. “But I know how to do it.”

“Sunlight,” Danny mused. “That works. Or decapitation.”

“There’s no sunlight here and we don’t have anything to cut his head off,” Don objected and shifted slightly.

“Even if we had something to cut off his head, we should do it on a Friday,” Danny muttered. “Bloodsuckers are supposed to be weakest on Fridays.”

“Myth,” Don huffed. “They’re just as weary on Fridays as everyone else. No mythic power. Having them bite into a lemon doesn’t kill them either.”

“Bite into a lemon?” Danny snorted. “Where did that come from?”

“Somewhere in Germany, I think.” Don shifted again. “There’s tons of myths about vampires around, and most of them are ridiculous.”

“Still doesn’t help us. We need to find a way to get out of here and to stop him.”

“My favorite way,” Don continued as if he hadn’t heard Danny, “comes from Romania. Remove the heart, cut it in two, and put a nail in the vampire’s head. And garlic in his mouth.””

“That would kill him, for sure,” Danny agreed dryly. “But still, where do we get the nail, and how do we remove the heart…not to mention that there is no garlic down here.”

“We don’t even know what day it is. We don’t have a way to find out if it’s Friday or not, unless you remember how long we’ve been here.” Don ran a hand through his hair. “Damn.”

Their situation seemed hopeless.

“We’ll figure something out,” Danny said, a tinge of desperation coloring his voice. “We’ll figure something out soon.”

“We better,” Don replied. “If we need much longer, things will look bad for Mac and Sheldon.”

“You’re supposed to worry about your own life here, not theirs,” Danny felt the need to point out. “Aren’t you worried Andersen will kill you?”

“Of course I am,” Don said. “Who would take care of Mac and Sheldon if…” He stopped and licked his lips. “Plus, I don’t want to die, and you know that.”

Danny sighed. “Yeah.” He coughed. “First, we need to get out of the chains, then we need to overwhelm the bloodsucker, and finally, we have to find our way out of here.”

Don managed a small smile. “Sounds like an almost perfect plan,” he said. “Now we only need to fill in some of the blanks there.”


	7. Chapter 7

~*+*~

A mug was pushed over the pristinely clean surface of Mac’s desk, but even before it came to a stop, Mac had scrunched up his nose and shook his head.

“Mac, you have to eat,” Stella said firmly. “You won’t help anyone if you starve yourself to death.”

Mac shook his head again and pressed his lips tightly together. “I’m fine,” he mumbled.

“Your hands are shaking, your ears show the typical characteristics of a vampire near his breaking point, and if your pupils get any smaller, they will disappear completely. And did you notice that the skin of your fingers is pulling back? You look like a zombie that was just dug up. Now drink.”

Mac stared down at his fingertips in surprise. They resembled claws, he realized with a start, animal claws that were meant to rip out someone’s throat.

He was dying, and he was dying quickly. Too quickly. Cold blood that didn’t come from his Donors, even if the blood was compatible with him, would not do a lot to slow the process down.

The mug was pushed toward him again, and Mac glanced up at Stella’s determined face. She would not give up until he at least made an effort and drank something, he knew that.

He reached for the blood with a grimace that pulled at his skin, bad enough that he feared it would rip as easily as wet paper.

He really was in a bad condition.

“I don’t want to explain to Don how I let you go this far when we find him,” Stella pointed out and slid into the chair across from him.

Mac took a small sip of blood and struggled not to gag. Never before had he found the taste of cold blood so disgusting.

“Stella,” he pointed out and swallowed thickly. “It’s been almost two weeks. You know the odds of them still being alive.”

“They are alive,” Stella said firmly, her eyes blazing. “I don’t think they’re dead, Mac. Not if another vampire is involved.”

“That is an assumption,” Mac pointed out tiredly. “We don’t have anything. All our leads are dead. All we have is a blood trail that’s not going anywhere. No suspects. Nothing, Stella.”

Stella sighed softly. Mac was right, of course, but she refused to believe that the two missing Donors were dead.

“How is Sheldon?” she asked, trying to force her thoughts away from that particular line of thinking. She simply refused to believe that the two Donors were dead.

Mac sighed. “Not good,” he admitted. “Apathetic. He stopped working a few days ago. The smell of blood…it gets too much. He couldn’t handle it anymore.”

Stella nodded.

“He’s not doing well,” Mac repeated quietly. “He needs Don. Or Danny. He needs them soon, Stel. He’s starving, he’s in pain, and there is nothing I can do to help him.”

Stella reached out and squeezed Mac’s hand. It didn’t look human anymore, especially not when put in contrast to her own hand, and the skin under her fingertips felt like icy cold, old leather, but Stella didn’t care.

“We’ll find them,” she promised fiercely. “There has to be something we can do.” Her thoughts were already racing, fitting the few puzzle pieces they had together and trying to catch a glimpse of the complete picture.

Mac straightened his shoulders with some difficulty. “Back to square one, then,” he said, and Stella nodded.

The vampires wouldn’t get a new Donor until the deaths of their old ones was confirmed. In the meantime, donated blood had to keep them alive, no matter how disgusting it was.

They would figure out what had happened, who had done this, and where Don and Danny were right now, and when they did…the creature who had dared to lay a finger on Mac Taylor’s Donors would have to face not only two pissed-off and starving vampires, but also a very angry and worried Detective Stella Bonasera. She might not know Danny Messer yet, but she knew Mac, and she knew Don and Sheldon, and she cared deeply for them.

If they found whoever had done this, he wouldn’t know what would hit him.

“Let’s go back to the motive,” she suggested. “There has to be a reason why someone kidnapped your Donors. Someone you or Sheldon pissed off.”

“Or someone Don or Danny pissed off,” Mac pointed out with a soft sigh. “The list of suspects is…long.”

~*+*~

“A paperclip, a spoon, a battery, a belt buckle,” Danny muttered dejectedly. “That’s not a lot to plan an escape with. And do I want to know why you have a spoon in your pocket?”

“No,” Don replied. “And no, it’s not a lot, unless you’re MacGyver.” He pressed his hand against Danny’s throat. “That bastard could’ve healed you, at least. He’s getting sloppy.”

Danny snorted. “Do I look like MacGyver to you?” he asked. “He thinks he’s safe now.”

“He didn’t by any chance leave the key to the lock out and you swiped it?” Don asked hopefully and ripped a sleeve off his shirt, to stop the flow of blood from Danny’s neck. “You’re lucky he didn’t drink from one of the major arteries. Still, what a waste of blood.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Danny tried to bat Don’s hand away. “What’s bothering me more is that there is no way we can escape if I’m bleeding like a stuck pig.”

“No,” Don agreed and pressed the fabric back to Danny’s throat. “Unless you manage to get him in enough of a rage that he collapses. Which is extremely rare, and never happens to a vampire who feeds as regularly as he does.” He sighed.

“He’s mentally unstable. It’s possible I can get him to a breaking point,” Danny mused.

“The only thing he’s going to break is you,” Don sighed. “Look at you, you can barely walk.”

Danny set his jaw stubbornly. “I can do it,” he insisted. “Crazy fucker won’t get me down.”

Don sighed. “There’s an old myth,” he said slowly. Danny had refused to let him get close enough to the vampire – Derek Andersen – to let him feed from Don, and Don had been disoriented enough to let it happen. However, in the past few days, he’d started feeling slightly better, as long as he didn’t move his head too much, and he had had enough time to think about their current situation and how they could get out of it.

Danny frowned confusedly at him, not quite understanding the connection between the two topics. For a split second, he feared that the effects of the concussion Don had suffered were more severe than he’d expected at first; worse enough to leave the other Donor with permanent brain damage.

“Okay?” he said slowly.

“It says that, if you get turned into a vampire, you need to drink the blood of the vampire who turned you, and you’ll get healed.”

“Don, none of us got turned,” Danny pointed out. “And none of us will, you understand me?”

“Yeah,” Don replied. “Besides, it doesn’t work that way anyways. Mac and Sheldon have been experimenting with that one for a while now. That’s why I said it’s a myth.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Danny impatiently asked and yanked at the chain that held him and Don together. The chain led through a ring in the wall and was wound tight around their ankles. As far as Danny could tell, they only needed to open one link and could free themselves at least enough to walk out, but unfortunately, the chain was too strong for either of them to break it with their bare hands, and they had no tools to aid them.

Don gave him a brief and definitely unfriendly smirk. “Because blood is the answer,” he said. “His blood. Danny, have you ever seen what happens when a vampire drinks spoiled blood? Or blood that’s not from a compatible Donor?”

Danny shook his head. “I try to stay away from vampires, you know that,” he pointed out quietly. “Unless I have to…” He swallowed thickly. His hand instinctively went up to his throat, to the network of old scars and new wounds that decorated his skin.

“What happened to you?” Don asked, his voice pitched just as low. “Where did you get those scars, Danny?” His fingers twitched against Danny’s throat.

Danny sighed. “It’s a long story,” he said. “I was…attacked.”

Don nodded. He’d figured out that much.

“It shouldn’t have happened,” Danny whispered. “I’m…I’m not a Donor, Donnie. This kind of life – sitting around, being careful, offering myself up to a bloodsucker anytime they need it – that’s not for me. I need something to do.”

Don didn’t bother correcting him about what the life of a Donor was like. They had other problems to worry about, and he didn’t see any sense in picking a fight with Danny now. They were, quite literally, stuck together in this situation and needed each other if they ever hoped to escape.

“Don?” Danny shifted slightly.

“Hm?” Don replied quietly. He didn’t move, and Danny suspected that the dizziness and the nausea the other man was still feeling was getting worse again.

“He is getting careless,” Danny murmured, his head turned to the side and pressed against Don’s feverish hot temple.

“I know, yeah,” Don murmured back. “How does that help us?”

“Maybe, if you pretend to be unconscious when he comes the next time, he’s more careless when chaining you up again”

“And maybe he’ll let us have more than just a little water and some dry bread,” Don replied before licking his lips. “Hey, maybe he’ll even let us go, Danny.”

Danny snorted. “Maybe we’ll get too filthy to drink from,” he added. “Who knows? It’s worth a try, though.”

He glanced down his own shirt. It was stiff with dried blood, dirt and sweat, and the rest of his clothes weren’t any better off. Don didn’t look better, his pale face a stark contrast to the dark beard that had started to grow, with dark circles under his eyes. The weeks of captivity had left him with even more pronounced cheekbones, and Danny was sure if he stripped off Don’s shirt, he would be able to count the other man’s ribs even in the semi-darkness they were held in.

He desperately needed to find a plan to get Don out of here and back to his own vampires; vampires who cared about their Donor and his well-being.

“I’m gonna get you out of this,” he promised fiercely, all teasing forgotten for now. “I promise you, Don. I’m gonna get you home.”

Don opened his eyes and focused quietly on Danny. “No,” he replied softly. “We’re both getting out. We’re both going home. I’m not leaving you behind, I promise you that, Messer.”

Danny’s lips twitched into a small smile.

“You would’ve made a hell of a cop, Don,” he whispered.

Don nudged him with an elbow. “You make an awesome Donor,” he replied, his words slurred together. “You just need to find the vampire who deserves you and treats you right. Someone you can trust.”

Danny’s answering laugh was sharp. “Like Mac Taylor?” he asked bitterly.

“Yeah.” Don sounded serious; too serious for Danny’s taste. “Mac is a good guy. A little tense sometimes, but he’s a good guy. I wish you could give him a fair chance to prove to you…” He trailed off.

Danny shook his head. “People like me always get the Sonnys and the Andersens,” he whispered softly.

Don struggled to sit up. “Not true,” he replied and tried to smile at Danny. “You get Mac and Sheldon too.” He grimaced. “We just need to get out of here.”

Danny sighed and let his head fall back against the moist wall again. There was no use in telling Don again how much he absolutely didn’t want to be a Donor, now les than ever. He didn’t have Don’s faith in the good of humanity – or vampirekind – and Derek Andersen hadn’t exactly swayed his mind in their favor.

He just wanted everything to be the way it had been before, when he’d been a little cog in the police department of New York City.


	8. Chapter 8

~*+*~

A feeding, Danny had quickly realized, always followed the same pattern. Andersen would appear, seemingly out of nowhere. He would make sure Don and Danny were subdued before kneeling down and opening the padlock of their chain. He then would grab Danny – usually because Danny moved to intercept any advances Andersen might make in Don’s direction – drag him out of sight of Don into one of the darker side-tunnels of the sewer and feed. When he was done, he sometimes remembered to heal the wounds he’d left behind, dragged Danny back and chained him to Don again. Then he would disappear again – maybe just out of sight, to listen to their increasingly ridiculous plans of escape and laugh at them, Danny thought, or maybe he left the sewers to do whatever crazy bloodsucker kidnappers did in their spare time. Sometimes he brought them bottled water and sandwiches, but he seemed to forget that, too, more and more often.

He didn’t know how long they’d been down here – days, weeks, a month? He didn’t think it was a month already, but he couldn’t be certain.

He only remembered the exact number of feedings – eight.

Eight times he’d let that crazy bloodsucker bite him, to protect Don, and he’d felt weaker after every time.

Normally, Don had told him, vampires fed twice a week; once if they were stubborn and forgetful and their Donors failed to remind them. Mac, he’d learned, could go a month without fresh blood, even if Don wasn’t happy about it. Sheldon could go two weeks, maximum, maybe a little longer with donated blood available. After that, they resembled zombies more than human beings and acted more like that, as well. There were, Don had revealed, attempts to create an artificial blood substitute that all vampires could digest and that would reduce the need for Donors, but those attempts hadn’t been successful yet.

Eight feedings, Danny mused while pressing himself against Don’s side for warmth. If Andersen had stuck to the norm and had fed twice a week, they’d been down here for four weeks now. If he’d fed less often because he’d always taken such huge amounts of blood, they had been stuck in the sewers for longer. Judging by the beards they both were sporting now and the almost healed gash on Don’s forehead, it hadn’t been much more than three or four weeks, maybe five. Danny didn’t know, and it drove him crazy. He hated not knowing, and Don hadn’t been a lot of help when he’d tried to figure it out, still too dazed from the concussion.

Danny blinked and nudged Don slightly.

“You said vampires get sick if they ingest blood from a Donor that’s not a match, right?” he asked when Don blinked his eyes open.

“Yeah,” Don said and slowly sat up straighter.

Danny frowned. He could, he thought, smack himself for not thinking of this earlier – it was so simple, so obvious, even a two-year-old should have figured it out within hours of their capture, and here he was, weeks later. He was such an idiot sometimes.

“You think,” he said slowly, his voice scratchy from exhaustion and barely contained excitement, “that two Donors could be a match to one vampire, but not compatible to another?!

Don frowned, trying to follow Danny’s train of thought. “You mean…you and me are a match to Mac and his family, but not…him?” he asked slowly.

Danny nodded. “You were bleeding like hell when he grabbed us,” he said. “And he didn’t even twitch! It was pretty easy to let him take me for drinking, too. Not how a vampire who’s compatible to your blood would have reacted.”

Don shrugged. “It’s … not impossible, I guess,” he said slowly. “But how does that help us get out of here?”

Danny grinned manically. “How much blood of a not compatible Donor would eliminate a vampire?”

Don shook his head. “Not much,” he said. “The more the better, of course. What are you planning?”

Danny’s fingers moved to the back of Don’s skull and pulled him close. “We’re going to give him as much of your blood as we can,” he whispered roughly. “Let’s see how he likes that.”

Don nodded. “How?” he whispered back.

Danny couldn’t hold back a small laugh. He waved a hand at himself. “Look at me,” he murmured. “If we just find a way to smear your blood on top of mine…he’ll never notice. I look like hell, anyways.”

“And if he does, we’re as good as dead,” Don muttered dryly. “Here’s another question. How do you want to get my blood on you?”

Danny laughed, dizzy with the thought of having an actual plan. “Spoon?”

~*+*~

The actual execution of their plan was easier than he’d expected, Danny thought while resisting the urge to scratch his throat. The thought of someone else’s blood drying on his skin made his fingertips tingle with the desperate wish of washing it off, but he couldn’t.

This was their only chance of escaping their ordeal alive, or at least, it was Don’s last chance of escaping relatively unscathed. He simply couldn’t mess this up.

He almost jumped out of his skin when the vampire crouched down next to him, his eyes feverishly bright, and reached for Danny’s leg, to unwind his leg from the chain. If he smelled the fresh blood, he didn’t visibly react to it, as far as Danny could tell. He allowed Andersen to drag him to his feet and off, and if he dragged his feet and stumbled, it was not just because he was exhausted and weakened from the blood loss.

He allowed the vampire to pet a hand through Danny’s stringy hair and coo at him without doing more than scowl at him, and then, long, no longer fragile-looking fingers tilted his head back, and Danny felt his stomach do the by now familiar flip. He knew what was coming, and he had to fight against every instinct he possessed to not try and fight and break the vampire’s nose.

He needed to let him drink, he reminded himself firmly and pressed the tip of his tongue between his own teeth, to stop himself from jerking away. He needed to let Don’s blood, caked thick on his skin, get into Andersen’s mouth, into his digestive system – and he needed their trick to work, needed Andersen to double over with pain, at least, needed the vampire distracted so that Danny…

Teeth pierced his skin, and Danny’s thoughts came to an abrupt stop as he realized what exactly he had to do.

He exhaled softly and allowed his body to grow heavy, to lean against Andersen a little, pretending that all fight had left his body, that he was too weak to do more than stand here and take it, when his fingers, still nimble despite everything he’d gone through in the past weeks, slipped, unnoticed, into Andersen’s pocket and closed around the key to the padlock. Even if their plan didn’t work, they now still had a way of escaping, if he played his cards right.

Carefully, he pulled his hand back. He was not one second too early, because suddenly, Andersen yanked himself away from Danny. A broken, wet growl escaped his throat, and he reached out, to touch his fingertips to his blood-covered lips.

Danny grimaced at the sensation of more blood running down his chest, from the still open wounds in his throat, but those thoughts were quickly pushed to the back of his mind when Andersen made another choking sound and took a stumbling step toward Danny, his hand reaching out and his lips pulled back in a snarl.

“What did you do?” the vampire whispered accusingly. “What have you done?”

Anger welled up in Danny; red-hot anger that filled him and left no room for anything else. He took a step back, his back pressed into the rough wall behind him, and balled his hands to fists.

“How could you! You love me,” the vampire now growled. “You offered yourself to me, and now…” He coughed again, and his eyes bulged out as he struggled to understand what had happened.

“Guess what,” Danny growled. “I lied!”

His fist hit Andersen’s nose with a satisfying crunch, and the vampire crumbled to the ground without making a sound.

Danny stood over him and rubbed his fist while breathing heavily.

“That felt good,” he muttered before grimacing. He didn’t know how much time they had, but he knew what he had to do.

Freeing Don and dragging the still unconscious vampire back to where the chain was hanging off the wall was done within what Danny felt was a relatively short time.

“Not sure how long this is going to hold him,” Don said as he clicked the padlock shut with an air of grim satisfaction hanging around him. “But for now, it should do fine.”

“Great,” Danny said and rubbed his hand again. “Which way now?”

“No idea. Left,” Don replied and gave him a grin. “If we’re really in the sewers, we probably should take the next possible way up, see where we come out, get to where people are.”

Danny nodded, and together, they stumbled off, leaning against each other and against the walls for support.

It was their only chance of escaping, and the knowledge of that gave them the strength to carry on, even when they felt like giving up, their muscles trembling from the exertion after the long days of just sitting around and being forced into stillness.

~*+*~

“Taylor.” Mac coughed uncomfortably when he heard the croak of his own voice. He felt like hell, almost too weak to do much more than shuffle from his bedroom to the living room and back, sipping on too cold blood to keep himself barely functioning.

“Officer Monroe,” a young voice replied. Mac recognized her immediately – Lindsay Monroe, the young cop who was friends with Danny. He felt himself grow more alert just from hearing her voice. “I hope I didn’t wake you up…”

“Any news?” he asked, interrupting her, and forced himself to sit up straighter.

“Yes,” Lindsay said, and there was no way her voice sounded anything but triumphant. “We found them.”

“What?”

“Well, it’s more like they found us,” Lindsay admitted. “But they’re alive. In a horrible shape, but they are alive. They’re fine, Mac.”

“How horrible?” Mac asked and coughed as his voice threatened to break with emotion.

Lindsay inhaled quietly. “I’m not exactly sure,” she admitted. “But they’re both alive, and conscious. I think at least one of them is anxious to see you.”

“We’ll be there as soon as we can,” Mac managed before chuckling in embarrassment. “As soon as you tell me where I can find them.”

Lindsay laughed as well, a sound of relief, before doing so.

~*+*~

“Hell, Mac!”

Mac smiled and stepped further into the room. “It’s good to see you too, Don,” he replied dryly before stepping up to the bed and wrapping his hand tightly around Don’s wrist.

Don grimaced. “You have no idea,” he agreed quietly. “Even if you look like someone just dug you up!”

Mac’s fingertips brushed against the vein at the inside of Don’s wrist. “Those were the worst thirty days of my life,” he admitted. “And I think I’m not the only one who feels that way.”

“Yeah, Lindsay told us,” Don said. “How are you doing, Mac? Do you need…” He stopped himself and laughed embarrassedly. “That’s a stupid question, of course you need to feed.”

“Yes,” Mac admitted hoarsely. “But I think I’ll let Sheldon go first.” He gave Don a soft smile. “As soon as I’m sure that you’re fine.”

“I’m good,” Don immediately said. “A concussion. Scrapes and bruises.” He glanced down at his hands. “I was of no use for him, so he left me mostly alone.”

Mac nodded. “If you don’t mind,” he said hesitantly. “I’d send you Sheldon.” He smiled weakly. “I talked to your doctor, and he said you can probably go home tomorrow.”

“I’m looking forward to my own bed. And a shower,” Don admitted with a smile before growing serious again. “Hey, Mac?”

“Hmm?”

“It wasn’t Danny’s fault. That this one went crazy and…you know.” He shrugged and looked down at their hands. “And I really think you should talk to Danny. About things. And everything. And you know.”

Mac smiled slightly. “That just didn’t make any sense,” he pointed out. “But I know what you mean. I will.”

His thumb brushed over Don’s wrist again. “I’ll be back later,” he promised as he rose to his feet. “And you can tell me the details of what happened then, okay?”

Don nodded. “Okay.”

~*+*~

“Danny.”

Danny whirled around on his heel and protectively wrapped his arms around himself before he caught himself and straightened again. “Mac,” he replied, his voice hitching slightly.

Mac took a step forward. Up to now, when he’d talked to Danny, Don had always been there, but Don was resting now, after letting both Sheldon and him feed, and after telling him everything he remembered about the past four weeks. He was alone with the reluctant and stubborn Donor now, and he knew he had to pick his words carefully if he wanted to keep Danny in his life.

After hearing Don’s report, he was more certain than ever that he wanted to do exactly that. He wanted to keep him. He wanted to give Danny the chance to live up to his potential; a potential he’d only caught little glimpses of.

He wanted to see more.

He wanted to get to know Danny. He wanted to gain his trust and become a friend.

He wanted to learn who the Danny behind the hostile defensiveness was.

“How are you?” he asked hesitantly.

Danny shrugged. His hand instinctively went to his throat, where a bandage hid the fresh wounds. It made a hot flash of anger run through Mac’s insides; the thought that someone else had touched Danny almost unbearable.

“I’m fine,” Danny said quickly, as if he’d felt Mac’s mood shift.

“No,” Mac replied. “You’re not. Danny, what happened to you…” He took a step toward the other man and immediately froze when Danny flinched. “You’re not fine,” he said softly.

Danny shrugged. “I will be,” he said confidently. “I always am.”

Mac inhaled slowly. “I want…” he started before stopping himself. “I want to make you an offer,” he then said and sat down on the uncomfortable plastic chair next to the bed. “Are you willing to hear me out?”

Danny nodded, but he didn’t move closer. Instead he stayed as far away from Mac as he could.

It wasn’t unexpected, Mac told himself firmly. Danny didn’t know him the way Don knew him. Danny didn’t know yet that he was safe with Mac.

Those were all things Mac wanted Danny to learn.

“I did a little digging,” he said and held up the file he’d brought with him. “Found out some things about you.”

Danny frowned. “Why?” he asked, suspicious but at the same time, still curious about where this was going.

Mac shrugged and smiled a little. “Let’s just say I was curious,” he said. “And I had quite some time on my hands.” He grew serious again. “A little too much time, if you ask me,” he admitted and shifted slightly in his chair. “Here’s the thing, Danny: I would like to have you as my Donor. Very much.”

Danny opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, Mac held up a hand. “I know you want to be a cop, and I talked to Sheldon about this. There is nothing that prevents you from staying a cop, Danny, although we would very much appreciate it if you would consider transferring to the Crime Lab.”

Danny’s eyes widened, and his mouth opened again, but no sound escaped. Mac knew that Danny had put in a request to transfer to the crime lab, and that he’d been rejected based on his volatile temper and his alleged connections to the Tanglewood gang.

“You don’t have to decide now,” Mac said quietly. “But…I hope you think about it and make a good decision for yourself.”

Danny nodded mutely, and Mac gave him another small smile that tugged on his skin and rose. He intended on leaving Danny enough space and time to make a decision without being influenced in any way.

He was almost at the door when Danny finally spoke.

“How’s Don?”

Mac stopped. “He’s fine,” he said, not turning around. “A hot shower, a few days of rest, some good meals, and he’ll be okay. He can go home tomorrow morning. Sheldon is with him.”

“He was worried more about you than about his own life,” Danny said quietly. “All the time we were caught down there, he was only worried about you and me and never really about himself.”

“He’s a good guy,” Mac said, trying to keep his voice neutral. “I’m very honored that he’s my friend.”

Danny fell quiet again, and Mac reached for the doorknob when a soft cough made him stop again.

“Do you…you know.” Danny swallowed nervously. “Do you need blood?”

Mac slowly turned around and gave Danny a thoughtful look. Danny was still standing on the other side of the room, his arms still crossed across his chest, and he was licking his lips nervously and bouncing on the balls of his bare feet.

“Yes,” he said honestly. “I do.” He had planned on giving Don a day or two before approaching him, if he was honest, and he knew that he hadn’t expected Danny to broach this topic on his own.

“Do you want some?” Danny asked hesitantly, surprising Mac again.

He chuckled. “Yes,” he said. “Of course I do. But you need rest, Danny. You already gave too much in the past thirty days, your doctor said you’re borderline anemic.”

Danny’s shoulders slumped – Mac didn’t know if it was from disappointment or relief.

“Okay, then,” he murmured, and Mac gave him a soft smile.

“When you’re healthy,” he said. “Let’s talk about it then, okay?”

“Okay,” Danny said again, and Mac finally left the room, a happy smile on his face and his heart clenching in his chest with love and relief.

~*+*~

“Thought I might find you here.”

Danny looked up and squinted at the lanky figure before making room on the sun-warmed bench.

“You found me,” he said with a small smile. “I thought they’d let you go?”

“They did.” Don sat down and nudged him slightly. “I wanted to check up on you.”

“I’m fine.” The words left his lips easily, and Danny even managed a small smile in Don’s direction. “Enjoying the sunlight.”

“Yeah,” Don said and stretched out his legs. “They found Andersen. What was left of him.”

Danny flinched slightly. “He’s dead?” he asked. “And there’s no doubt it’s him?”

“The ashes contained his DNA. Yeah, it was him.” Don nodded.

Danny didn’t reply, and they sat in silence for a long moment, until Danny shifted.

“What’s gonna happen now?” he asked hesitantly.

Don turned toward him. “Now you get better,” he said. “And then…I hear Mac offered you a position in the lab.”

“He did,” Danny admitted. “But I haven’t made a decision yet.”

“Haven’t you?” Don asked quietly, and Danny, again, didn’t reply.

Finally, Don sighed. “It’s all up to you, man,” he said. “But you gotta make a decision. You, and nobody else can do it for you.”

“I know,” Danny said and took a deep breath.

If he was honest with himself, he already had made that decision. He just…had to acknowledge it.

~*+*~

“Hey!” Lindsay rose from her desk and wrapped Danny into a tight hug as soon as she caught sight of him. He returned her embrace awkwardly, hindered by the heavy bandages once again wrapped around the vulnerable parts of his body.

“Hey,” he replied. “I just wanted to pick up my stuff.”

She nodded and took a step back. “I heard,” she said, a smile on her face. “You’re joining the geek squad.”

Danny laughed. “Yeah,” he said. “Seemed like the best offer, you know?” He grimaced. “Just have to remember not to piss off my new boss, or my life will truly be hell.”

Lindsay joined his laughter. “Good luck with that,” she teased. “I don’t even think you’re capable of staying out of trouble.”

Danny shrugged embarrassedly. “I know,” he said. “But you know what, Linds?”

She gave him a long look. He was dressed in clean clothes that didn’t quite manage to hide the effects of the month Danny had gone through, but he wasn’t as pale as he had been when she’d visited him in the hospital. He was smiling, the skin around his eyes crinkling, and she sensed that he was happy with the decision he had made and the road his life had taken.

“What?” she asked.

The smile disappeared. “I’m gonna try,” he said. “I mean, can’t promise anything beyond that, but I’m gonna try and be someone Mac can be proud of.”

He sounded so earnest, so serious about his intent, that Lindsay couldn’t help herself. She stepped closer to him again and wrapped her arms around him, engulfing him in a tight hug.

“I think he already is,” she murmured. “He has every reason to be. Congratulations, Danny.”

“Thank you.” He grinned and bounced on his feet excitedly. “Who knows, maybe we’ll get the chance to work together, again.”

“Looking forward to it,” she promised and nodded to someone behind Danny. “I think your new boss is waiting for you.”

Danny turned around and caught sight of Mac, who was waiting for him by the door. “Yeah,” he said. “I think I have to go, but hey, you can visit me at the lab, right?”

“Right,” Lindsay laughed and made a shooing motion with her hand. “I will. But some people around here actually have to work, so…”

“Yeah.” He looked for a moment as if he wanted to hug her again, but then, he just shrugged and picked up the cardboard box he’d set down on Lindsay’s desk. “I’ll see you later.”

And with these words, he turned and left, into a new life and a new future. Lindsay gave Mac a respectful nod, which he returned, before laughing softly.

If there was one guy who deserved this kind of chance, it was Danny, she decided while picking up her memo book and preparing for another night of work herself.

Crime never stopped - but then, neither did they.

~end.


End file.
